Bella's Story
by CaramelWillow
Summary: No one knew The Dark Lord had a daughter. And know one knew she would be one of the Golden Quartet: Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Bella. Starts with the end of GOF and the discovery of her past...and thus, her future. OC! DM/OC
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

_A/N: Hello all~This is my first fanfic, though I've read many. I've had this OC's story in my head since the first book came out, but I'll start here. I have taken direct quotes from __Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire __for much of the dialogue between Voldemort and the Death Eaters. _

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters and/or plots from JK Rowling's original and quite beloved canon. I have created the character of Bella and the events surrounding her life.

**I. Prologue**

He was already tied to the headstone when my portkey—the strange medallion that Professor Moody had suddenly placed in my hand while I sat on the bleachers waiting for the end of the Triwizard Tournament—threw me to the hard ground. I saw Cedric's lifeless body not too far away and whimpered. I regretted the sound as soon as it escaped my lips because Wormtail looked up from his fumbling.

"Who is it?" a silvery voice hissed.

"It's her, my Lord," replied Wormtail, subserviently.

"Bring her here. Tie her...gently...beneath the boy. She should watch."

Before I could reach my senses, scramble to my feet and run, Wormtail was upon me, lifting me from the ground with one arm. I fought to get away from him, but with a swish of his wand, I was unable to struggle further. As he tied me gently beneath the headstone I looked up to see Harry, limp with pain, above me.

"Harry?" I whispered, barely audible.

"Who is it?"

"Silence!" hissed that silvery voice again, causing Harry pain.

"Bella?" Harry guessed. I nodded my head up and down, touching his leg at the top of the nod, letting him know he'd guessed correctly.

Wormtail began to perform the ritual. I can't stand to think of it. It was disgusting. I hated hearing the slice of Harry's skin and to see his blood enter the cauldron. I was repulsed at the sight of Wormtail cutting his own hand off. And then the Dark Lord rose again…

He called his followers to the graveyard by touching Wormtail's Dark Mark.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it, and how many will be foolish enough to stay away?" he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars.

He paced up and down before Harry, Wormtail and I, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked down at Harry again, perhaps failing to remember I was there. I thanked the Lord, praying he'd forgotten about me, but fearing his plans for Harry. Why was I here? I'd not had any run-ins with Voldemort, unless you count the one with Quirrell first year and then the memory second year, basically due only to Harry's adventures. His cruel smile twisted his snakelike face as he began:

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father. A Muggle and a fool—very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child…and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death…."

He laughed. It sent shivers down my spine. I wanted to look at Harry, but I was selfishly afraid it would draw Voldemort's attention to me. I was so afraid I would end up like Cedric. Cedric was an extra, he was obsolete; that's why he died. What, exactly, was my purpose in being here? Voldemort continued to pace, looking around as he walked, Nagini continued to circle in the grass.

"You see that house up on the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was…. He didn't like magic, my father…

"He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage…but I vowed to find him…I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name…Tom Riddle…"

Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave.

"Listen to me, reliving my family history. Why, I am growing quite sentimental…but look, Harry! My true family returns…"

There was a swirling of cloaks as Death Eaters appeared from everywhere…from thin air it seemed. One by one they moved forward, slowly, cautiously, as though they could not believe their eyes. Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort, and kissed his black robes, sobbing "Mater…Master…"

The other Death Eaters did the same, and formed a circle around Voldemort, including Harry and I strapped still to the grave of the older, dead Tom Riddle. Their eyes glanced up at Harry, taking in the sight. Few saw me sitting on the ground, trying not to breathe, hoping the pumping of my heart could not be heard as loudly as I thought it could. There were gaps in the circle, but it seemed Voldemort didn't think anymore were coming.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly, "Thirteen years…thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday….We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"

He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening.

"I smell guilt," he said. "There is a stench of guilt upon the air. I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact—such prompt appearances!—and I ask myself…why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty? And I answer myself, they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment…

"And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?

"And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still great power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort…perhaps they now pay allegiance to another…perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?

"It is a disappointment to me…I confess myself disappointed…"

One of the men suddenly flung himself forward asking for forgiveness. Voldemort only laughed and hit him with the Cruciatus Curse. I prayed for someone to hear the screams of the Death Eater and come to our rescue. As everyone was distracted by the torture, I stole a glance up at Harry. He was in pain, white as a sheet. He looked down at me and the fear in his eyes said it all. This was probably it for us. I reached behind as best I could against the ropes to squeeze his leg in reassurance. I was there. We would survive this together, or die fighting together.

"Get up, Avery," said Voldemort softly, breaking my gaze up to Harry. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years…I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?"

Wormtail just sobbed, cradling his bleeding stump of an arm against his body.

"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," moaned Wormtail, "please, Master…please…"

"Yet you helped return me to my body," said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me…and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…"

As Voldemort began swirling his wand in the air, somehow despite my fear, I wondered how vain and stuck-up a man might be that talks condescendingly to his saviors in the third person. Something silver-like came out of the wand, and a silver hand attached itself to Wormtail's bleeding wrist. At this point, his sobbing ceased and he crushed a twig into dust with his new hand.

"My Lord," he whispered. "Master…it is beautiful…thank you…thank you…"

He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail."

"No, my Lord…never, my Lord…"

Wormtail stood up and took his place in the circle, staring at his powerful new hand, his face still shining with tears. Voldemort now approached the man on Wormtail's right.

"Lucius, my slippery friend," he whispered, halting before him. " I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius…Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I dare say…but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?"

"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert. Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me—"

"And yet you ran from my mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" said Voldemort lazily, and Mr. Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius….You have disappointed me….I expect more faithful service in the future."

"Of course, my Lord, of course….You are merciful, thank you…."

Voldemort moved on, talking of the Lestranges, and those lost in service. He moved on to the other Death Eaters…Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. My breathing continued to be uneven, painful even, in my attempts to refrain from being heard. My heart was sill pumping loudly in my ears…it must be just as loud to them, I feared. I kept a hand on Harry's shoe behind me, as much for my own comfort as to let him know I was still there and would stay by his side no matter what.

Then Voldemort stopped, "And here we have six missing Death Eaters…three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return…he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever…he will be killed, of course…and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service. He is at Hogwarts, my faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friends arrived here tonight…."

My stomach flipped and I was sure I was going to be sick. Who could be the "faithful servant" at Hogwarts? Had Harry been in harm this entire year, to someone completely visible, and we didn't know it? Could Professor Snape be the evil man we all feared him to be? I wanted to scream.

"Yes," Voldemort continued, "Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor,"

There was a silence. Lucius Malfoy stepped forward to speak from under his Death Eater mask.

"Master, we crave to know…we beg you to tell us…how you have achieved this…this miracle…how you managed to return to us…."

"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius. And it begins—and ends—with my young friend here."

He walked lazily over to stand next to Harry, so that the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of them.

"You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?" The anger and resentment seeped through his voice. It sent a shiver down my spine. I stole a look at Harry, who was wide-eyed and still bleeding. The look I stole caused a couple Death Eaters to notice me. I stopped moving after that. Voldemort talked of his failure to kill Harry. All I could seem to hear was the loud pumping of my heart. I could tell our deaths were drawing near. He talked about how he possessed animals, how he came across Quirrell. I remember words like "Philosopher's stone" and "basilisk," so I imagine he talked of our meetings the first two years at school.

But the story came full circle, back to the "faithful servant."

"My faithful servant, as I discussed before, returned to me. I stationed him at Hogwarts after hearing from Bertha about the Triwizard Tournament to be held there this year. This was the perfect opportunity to have my servant arrange a meeting between Harry Potter and I. But after the first couple days of term I got a very interesting message from my servant." Voldemort turned and looked at me. I tried to look away, but I couldn't, as if some spell were placed upon me. Why would he look at me with such intensity? Why was he even keeping me alive? What did I matter in the scheme of things? Nothing. That's all.

"This message contained a description of a girl," his eyes bore into me. Was he talking about me? "Best friend to Harry Potter, blond, an orphan with no last name. She went by the name 'Bella,' some sort of nickname for a full name no one knew. She was extremely talented at magic, especially resisting dark magic. She was kind, considerate, brave…a true Gryffindor," he pronounced the last word with spite, sarcasm and a hint of venom. "But she possessed a quality unlike a Gryffindor. She was a Parsletongue. But the most disturbing description of the girl, was that she looked exactly…the spitting image said my servant, turns out he was right…of Ann Marie."

The Death Eaters fluttered it seemed, without moving. Obviously this Ann Marie played some sort of importance to the group, though I'd never heard of her. And why were they all looking at me and nodding their heads? He was talking about me, obviously. I'm the only person other than Harry who can speak Parseltongue. So, it had to be me. I could feel myself growing hot with the embarrassment of having all eyes on me. I began to sweat and my heart raced a little faster as Voldemort continued:

"My servant was sneaky and smart enough to obtain a small blood sample without the girl knowing. He tested it, and what he had supposed to be was true. I had no idea Ann Marie gave birth to a baby girl, my baby girl, before she was murdered. Arabella Rose Riddle is the name on the birth certificate. And her guardians? The Malfoys." Lucius looked at me.

"An honor, my Lord" he said, without taking his eyes off me. It hadn't hit me yet. The news.

"An honor my wife bestowed on you without me knowing, Lucius, but I trust you will take care of her, now that we know she is here, alive, and well."

"Of course, my Lord."

Voldemort approached me. He wave his wand and the ropes tied tightly around me gave away. He reached out hand to me, as if to help me up. I refused to take it, so instead he used magic to lift me to my feet. I heard Harry make a sound as if to protest, but he was silenced; whether by magic or fear, I don't know. Voldemort forcibly took my hand, scourgifyed me of the sweat and dirt from the trip with one wave his wand, and dressed me in dark green dress robes I'd never seen before with another wave. The dress fit me perfectly. It was full length, with green silk that flowed to the floor and created a pool of cloth at my feet. There was a sash of cloth around my waste, a curvy v-neck-line and sleeves that ran down to my wrists with a diamond of cloth that reached with a point to my middle finger across my hand. Black beads were sewn too the dress in swirling patters. He took my hand and twirled me into the center of the circle. My heart was in my throat.

"May I introduce to you, my loyal servants, my daughter, Arabella Rose Riddle."

That's when my legs gave way; he caught me before I hit the ground. Silent tears were streaming down my face. How could my father be the man trying to kill my best friends? How could my legal guardian be the father of a boy who has tormented my friends and me since the moment we got off the Hogwarts Express first year? I saw through blurry eyes all of the Death Eaters bow to me. I tried to come to my senses. Harry said something, but I only heard my name and "run." I tried to use my legs but they wouldn't work. How could this be true? How come no one told me? How could…What…no!

Mr. Malfoy came forward and took me from…my father. He held me close so I couldn't run, though I tried to struggle. He also supported me so I didn't fall. I was still too weak with shock. That's when Voldemort turned and addressed my best friend, still painfully tied to the gravestone of my grandfather.

"Your good friend Arabella here is my daughter, Potter. Your best friend, sidekick and fellow-orphan is not who she appeared to be." Harry's face contorted, taking on a look halfway between heartbreak and hatred. I tried to say something, to make Harry believe I had never known, that I was still Bella, always Bella, nothing but Bella. Me. Not Arabella. Not the daughter of this monster, but Voldemort continued before I had my chance, "So, young Potter, they all thought you were my downfall. But they were wrong, and now you will receive your wand back and you will fight. I will let you face death fighting, with dignity, like your father."

With a swish of Voldemort's wand, Harry was free. He was handed his wand.

"Harry!" I managed to croak out. I was scared, and I wanted to tell him not to fight, to run, to go to the portkey, to get to safety. It wasn't worth it. But his name was all I could get out. Mr. Malfoy's hand clasped itself over my mouth and he held me close. Voldemort didn't blink an eye. Harry looked at me hopelessly. Voldemort made him bow and they each yelled their first spell. Of course Voldemort's was the Killing Curse, and Harry's the Disarming spell. Harry ran as fast as he could behind the gravestone. Voldemort taunted Harry, telling him how admirably his father acted before he died. I knew that was a tender spot for Harry, and I wanted to cry, "Don't!" but the hand was still firmly over my lips. Harry, of course, came out wand at the ready. That's when it happened. They each yelled their "signature" spell and the wands bonded. The green flashing light of the Killing Curse collided with the red stream of light from Harry's Disarming Spell. Each had to grip his wand tightly, for they were vibrating violently. The hand came off my mouth as we all stood there watching in wonder. Harry pushed his light to the tip of Voldemort's and heads started coming out of his wand, ghostly white. Cedric came first, then a couple more. They were strangers to me, until I saw Harry's parents: it was whoever Voldemort killed coming out backwards. A bubble formed around the two dueling wizards and Voldemort was shouting directions at the Death Eaters, but I didn't hear what he said. I was watching the ghosts. They talked to Harry. All of a sudden, Harry broke the bond between the two wands and looked at me, while the white ghostly spirits bombarded the Death Eaters, blinding them. I was firmly in Mr. Malfoy's grasp, so I mouthed, "Go! Run!" His eyes looked pleading, but he ran, Death Eaters throwing spells after him. And then he grabbed Cedric and the Cup, and he was gone.

Lucius Malfoy's arm still grasped me tightly. I drooped slightly when I saw Harry go, but his arm didn't let me fall to the ground. Voldemort swirled around angrily.

"How could you let him get away?" he hissed. He yelled "Crucio!" and someone screamed in the darkness. I whimpered.

"Lucius, you're house is ready?"

"Yes, my Lord, always."

"Apparate there with Arabella. Then open the guards to let us all in. But no one else. You have 5 minutes."

"Right away, my Lord."

Voldemort turned to me in a softer voice, perhaps because he knew I was in shock, "Arabella, Lucius will apparate with you to Malfoy Mansion, there we will talk, okay?"

I didn't make a noise, though I wanted to reply with a bitter remark that I could hear perfectly fine what he had instructed Malfoy; but I felt Lucius tighten his grasp on me. Then I felt as though I was squeezed into a tube and we reappeared in the dark hallway of a silent house.

"Narcissa!" Mr. Malfoy called out. She came out of an open doorway a little bit down the hall.

"What happened?" she asked before she saw me, when she did she took in a sharp intake of breath.

"Not now I have to release the protective charms for the Dark Lord and the others, this is his daughter, taker her into the parlor." And he was gone.

Narcissa looked at me for a moment, before walking past me and going to a closet near the entryway. She pulled out a nice warm-looking blanket from the top shelf and put it over my shoulders. She walked me to a room on the opposite side of the hall from the one she had exited a little closer to where Mr. Malfoy and I had apparated. She sat me down on a couch and sat next to me, her arm still around my shoulders with the blanket. She snapped her fingers and a house elf appeared. While she asked for something I thought of Hermione and what she would say about S.P.E.W. Would I ever see her again? Or Ron? Or anyone? Was Harry ok? What about the Death Eater in disguise at school? My worried thoughts were interrupted: "One lump or two, dear?" Narcissa asked. I realized a house elf had brought in a tray of tea.

"None, thank you."

"No sugar? I'm surprised," she replied. I didn't explain but took the cup of warm liquid without another word.

"So you are the Dark Lord's daughter?" she asked. I nodded my head, not quite believing it myself. "Just found out?" I nodded again cooling the tea with by blowing on it. "You look just like your mother."

"That's what I've heard. I mean, tonight at least." I answered, politely. The distraction of the discussion was calming, even if it was not on a favorable topic.

"What's your name, dear?" she asked as if she already knew.

"Bella. But I guess it's technically Arabella Rose Riddle now," I replied. My voice was more confident than I was.

"Bella? Did you have a last name before?" I just shook my head. "I thought as much. Bella with no last name. My Draco talked about you when he was home." I raised my eyebrows in question. She continued without me having to urge her. "He said you were the sweetest person he ever met. Didn't know why you hung out with that Potter and his friends. He went on about how you never picked sides in the fights, never said anything mean, but tried to keep Draco and Potter from fighting. You were the peace-maker, not to mention powerful in magic. More powerful than anyone Draco had ever seen."

The door slammed then, but I was still looking at Draco's mother in surprise. Draco had talked about me on break? Why? Narcissa stood up as my father with a few select Death Eaters entered. House elves were showing the other Death Eaters where to go.

"Narcissa, I trust you are well?" Lord Voldemort said as he swept past her without waiting for a reply, his cloak billowing behind him. The Death Eaters who had entered lined the walls of the room, also blocking the exits. I started to feel trapped. I sat there in the Malfoy Mansion, with a cup of tea and a blanket around my shoulders staring at the people I'd feared most over the last four years. How had I ended up here? I'd thought that my life had changed forever in a drastic way when Hagrid came to the orphanage to gather me for first year, informing me I was a witch. Little had I known, that was only the beginning…

_A/N: PLEASE review. What do you like? What don't you? I plan to jump to the future where Harry everyone are 20. Good idea? Bad? Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated greatly! Thanks for reading! Oh, and would it be better written in third person (partly omniscient), or do you like it in first person for Bella?_

_Also, armanifan101 made a banner and a trailer. Please check them out! Thank you!_

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Trailer: .com/watch?v=iUpUxZAp6B8


	2. Chapter 2: Practically No Magic

_A/N: We launch into the future. I promise things will get explained further as we go. Let me know what you think of where I'm headed. Thanks!_

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own or lay claim to any of the characters or plots from J.K. Rowling's original canon of Harry Potter. I have created Bella and the events surrounding her life.

**II. _Practical_ly no _Magic_**

_~about 3 years later~_

The door to my room slammed and footsteps made their way heavily from the door to the center of my room where they stopped. I finished the paragraph I was reading of the Muggle novel Practical Magic and looked up to see Draco Malfoy standing, hands on hips, looking slightly annoyed and expectantly at me where I was sprawled out on my bed.

"May I help you?" I asked innocently.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" he demanded.

"Reading," came my frank reply.

"You are expected downstairs for breakfast."

"I know. Trinky already told me breakfast was ready."

"And you aren't downstairs because..." Draco looked at me like I was losing my mind.

"Not hungry."

"Okay," he said bitterly as he walked around to the side of my bed, "Get your ass out of this bed and into some decent dress robes. Right. Now." He grabbed my arm with one hand, throwing the book in my other hand across the room.

"Excuse me?" I said, indicating his behavior was preposterous.

"You heard me. Your father and my family are waiting for us. This breakfast happens once every couple of weeks and it is the only chance for all of us to be together."

"All of us to be together? To be together?" My voice was rising in volume before I even realized it. "Draco, you are making it sound like we are a family."

"We are."

"Oh no, no, no. He may want us all to be a family. He may claim to be my father. But we are most definitely _not_ a family."

"Yes we are. He is your father. My father is your legal guardian. We've been matched for marriage since birth. Whether you like it or not." he was dragging me toward the washroom. I could tell I was going to get a bruise from him where he was holding my arm. I whipped my arm out of his grasp and rounded on him.

"I don't care what power my father holds over you and your family, but I will not allow you, or him, or anyone to control me. And you will not use course language with me and you will not treat me like this." I looked into his gray eyes that had turned stormy with anger. I didn't blink or look away from the intensity there but just tried to stare him down.

"Problems, little one?" the Dark Lord spoke almost sweetly as he stood menacingly on the threshold of my room.

"Well, actually, Draco here..." I started but was cut off by my father stepping forward and clearing his throat, his wand cradled in his hand.

"Of course not, father," I amended.

"Good. Then we will see you at breakfast in a few minutes, my child?" I only nodded, my heart in my throat as he came towards me and kissed me on my head, almost like any other father would. "Draco, let's leave her to clean up." And they were out the door.

I sank to the ground, putting my head in my hands. I could feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes, begging to break free. But I wouldn't let them. I had decided long ago that I wasn't going to let them get to me. I'd refused to break down the night they informed me I was the infamous Dark Lord's daughter, and I refused to break down now. Over breakfast. What a silly thing to get upset over. I'd just go down like a good, obedient daughter and sit and eat with the Malfoys, my father and some of his closest followers. Obedient. I snorted to myself as I got up and went into the bathroom. That is one thing I had never been. I followed my personal moral code to a fault, even if an authority figure told me otherwise. Teaching me obedience became a more taxing process for my father and for the Malfoys than they'd ever imagined possible. I washed my face, feeling as though I was washing away the encounter I'd already had this morning in the process. Draco's patience with me was wearing thin, I could see that. My father seemed to have all the patience in the world with me. All he had to do was remind me that everyone had a wand but me, since mine had been confiscated every time I returned from Hogwarts. I was powerless. Well, not completely. I was magic-less, though. I still had an attitude, and the little power afforded to me by the mere fact I was the Dark Lord's daughter. I brushed my teeth and hair and headed to the wardrobe to decide what to wear. When I came out of the bathroom I saw robes already laid out for me. Trinky was standing by my bed.

"Master told Trinky what Mistress Arabella is to wear this morning," she said with a shy smile.

"And if I don't want to wear that?" I asked, still slightly bitter. Trinky looked as though she was going to dissolve into tears. "Oh, Trinky, I'm sorry. Of course this is what I'll wear." I said, silently thinking, Which Master? Draco? Or Lord Voldemort? I slipped into the robes and checked the mirror before heading out of the room. Draco was just outside my door, leaning against the opposite wall. He looked up when he saw me and smirked.

"What's that look for?" I asked.

"I didn't actually expect you to come out with the correct robes on," he answered.

"I assume you are here to check that I am appropriately dressed and to escort me downstairs so I don't get lost taking the same route I have for the past year or so to get there."

He gave a curt nod.

"So glad to hear I'm trusted," I replied sarcastically as we headed down the hall.

"Because you've done so much to earn it," he replied. I didn't reply as he took my hand and placed it in the crook of his bent arm before we entered the breakfast room. This was going to be a long morning.


	3. Chapter 3: Breakfast

_A/N: Hi all! Thanks to all who reviewed and those who added my story to their alerts. I'm trying to update as often as possible, but I'm taking Organic Chemistry and we have an exam every week. So, the closer we get to that exam, the less writing. Please continue to read and review! Xo!_

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own or lay claim to any of the Harry Potter characters or plots. They are J.K. Rowling's only. I did create Bella and the plot surrounding her life, based on JK Rowling's original canon of Harry Potter.

**III. Breakfast**

I walked into the breakfast room on the arm of Draco Malfoy. Upon our entrance everyone stood, as was custom. I found some of the pureblood customs to be very old fashioned. Like 18th or 19th Century-type old fashioned. For example, if a lady entered the room or rose from her seat, everyone stood.

"My deepest apologies for keeping you waiting," I spoke to the room. I hoped my overly forced, sickly sweet voice wouldn't sound as sarcastic to the others as it did to me. Someone replied with a polite response. Something about how they were happy to wait for me. Gag me. I was busy surveying the room. The usuals were there: my father, Draco's mother and father, Bellatrix and Rodolphus; but there was an extra. Severus Snape. A trusted member of the Inner Circle, yes, but he still didn't attend the Breakfasts of Doom, as I so lovingly named them. I sat between my father and Draco. My father sat at the head of the table, of course, despite the fact it was the Malfoy Manor; he had taken over. Across from him at the other end was an empty seat, saved in loving memory of my mother. Who knew the Dark Lord could've loved, right? That was my first thought. Her name was Ann Marie. She was a pureblood. She was beautiful. She was the only woman who could ever make my father laugh, make him forget about his pain, make him think of something other than killing. At least, that's what I've been told of my mother. I wasn't sure if it was true, or just a story the Death Eaters liked to tell...

Once we were all settled in, the food appeared on our plates, much like it would at Hogwarts. A couple of scrambled eggs and toast appeared on my plate, and my favorite purple mug with Earl Grey tea steaming was placed beside that. Oh, how the house elves had me pegged. I ate the same breakfast every day. It'd been that way since the first day at Hogwarts. And it hadn't changed one bit. I watched for my father to take the first bite. Once he had, I picked up my fork and dove into the fluffy yellow eggs in front of me. I remember the first breakfast I ate with my father. I remember thinking, Wait. He eats? Like, normal-people food? Not blood? Or snake food? Or some creepy, foul-smelling potion? Those were the interesting days. The first few months before it sank in that I was going to have to live the rest of my life as the daughter of the Dark Lord.

"So, Arabella dear, Draco was telling me you enjoy the theatre," Narcissa broke the awkward silence. Sometimes it seemed like a game. Who would find the first PC topic of conversation? Who would later regret breaking the silence? Narcissa was winning. Bellatrix was losing. That woman had no idea how to choose a breakfast topic.

"Oh, was he, now?" I teased. I smiled at his mother at the same time shooting him a glare. He wasn't supposed to be feeding information to his parents. And where the heck had he gotten the idea that I liked theatre? "I simply love it," I replied seriously this time. It wasn't a lie, either. Ever since the first time I saw a West End theatre show, I was hooked. West End or Broadway, plays, musicals, whatever. I was a fanatic. Fan was too short a word for my depth of love.

"You must join us for next year's season. We get season tickets every year to the West End theatre, we would simply love it if you attended with us." I couldn't tell if she was lying about the loving if I'd join, just saying it to be nice. I also didn't know whether my agreement would set it in stone or just serve as a fake acceptance to a fake invitation.

"If my father permits," I looked to him for a short nod telling me he would, "I wouldn't miss it!"

"Perfect! I'll make sure to order the tickets later today, then," she smiled. Actually, legitimately smiled. I didn't think I'd ever seen Narcissa Malfoy beam like that. So it wasn't a farce. I felt a hand on my knee and looked down to see Draco was patting it in appreciation. I looked up at him and he gave me a close-lipped smile and a look. I titled my head ever so slightly in question, but he went back to his breakfast.

"Professor Snape," I addressed him directly, daring to flat out ask him why the hell he was there.

"Please, it's Severus. You are no longer in school, and thus I am no longer your professor," he cut me off.

"I don't know if I can get used to that, sir," I replied simply. It was the truth. How awkward is it to all of a sudden call by first name the professor that worked to make you and your friends' lives miserable for years? He just smiled in response. "To what do we owe the gift of your presence at breakfast this fine morning?" Well, here was the test. I looked out of the corner of my eye to see if my father freaked by my direct question.

"Your father asked me to join you all this morning. An invitation I could not refuse," he started. I wanted to finish that sentence with "or else." Because really, you don't refuse an invitation from my father. It's just not done. I peered again out of the corner of my eye. So far, there had been no indication that my question to Snape had been a major faux pas.

"So, father," I practically turned in my seat to address the man next to me while I pierced another forkful of scrambled eggs,"is there any particular reason for my ex-potion professor's presence?" I quickly put the forkful of eggs in my mouth but chewed them slowly, anticipating a change in the usual order.

"Well, my little one," he began with his usual nickname for me, "I want Severus, as well as a few others, to begin your education."

"My education?" I said slowly, wondering if he realized that there was in fact a reason for my attendance at Hogwarts for all seven years.

"Yes. Severus will be instructing you in Occlumency, silent spell casting and some advanced potions. Narcissa will begin with pureblood high society and etiquette. Lucius will handle pureblood history. And then you will come to me and we will study some spells together."

"No," I replied before I knew the words were out of my mouth.

"Ari..." I heard Draco growl under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Bellatrix burst out. To this the Dark Lord held up a hand, looking at me in anticipation of an explanation.

"I went to Hogwarts. I did my time. I took Advanced Potions with Professor Snape and got better marks than Draco, mind you! I know how to cast a silent spell. I don't give a damn about pureblood society or etiquette. I'm not even pureblood, I'm a quarter muggle and you know it!"

The volume of my voice was rising in frustration and anger.

"I asked you if I could go to post-Hogwarts school for something, anything, so I could continue studying magic and get a career, and you denied that request. I refuse to sit here and allow you to dictate what my life will be like, what I will learn and do. And I will NEVER AGREE TO LEARNING DARK MAGIC!" At this I threw my napkin down on the table and stood up, aiming to get out of the room as fast as I could. I could hear Bellatrix spit out, "The insolence!" before she was silenced by Lucius. And before I could reach the door it slammed shut and locked. I reached for it still only to be burned by the metal handle that had been charmed white-hot. I turned around and glared at my father.

"Come here, little one." He said. I didn't move. He raised a finger and beckoned for me to come. Against my will, my feet moved towards him. My feet led me to his side where he still sat placidly at the head of the table. He took my burnt hand and traced a circles on the palm until the burns were completely healed and no pain remained, just a faint tingling. I braced myself for a punishment I knew he would render painfully. He simply dropped his voice to a whisper, still loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room, but soft as to make a point about my behavior. "I do not appreciate being yelled at, my child. You will not show such disrespect for me again. Now, sit down, and we will discuss this calmly." There was no option for me but to do as he said. And there would be no discussion. In this house, with these people, his word was law.

Of my own free will I sat down again in my seat. The breakfast dishes had disappeared, but my mug of tea remained. I took a sip for comfort.

"Now, then." Voldemort started again as if nothing had happened. "Snape, you are up to the task I presume?" A simple nod came from the man. "Narcissa? Lucius?" Nods there as well.

"My lord," Bellatrix dared to address him. "Am I not to take part in the education of your beautiful daughter." I wanted to snort. I hated false flattery and I hated that she just wanted to ensure she was still on his good side.

"Bellatrix and Rodolphus, you will no doubt be busy with other missions," the Dark Lord promised. They smiled. "And I do not trust your restraint when it comes to the insubordination my daughter presents. You would surely use the Cruciatus Curse as a method of discipline despite my making it clear to all of my followers that my child was in no way, nor for any reason, to be harmed." _Except by the hands of my own father burning my hand as I try to leave the room. Not to be harmed, except for that_, I wanted to add.

"Narcissa," my father continued, "I believe there is a ball coming up?"

"Yes, my Lord," she seemed puzzled, "The Parkinson's annual Summer Ball is the first day of summer every year."

"I expect Draco as well as my dear Arabella are to be invited?"

"Just like every year, my Lord."

"I want my Arabella to attend this year. She'll need to know the etiquette, the dances, and she'll need the proper attire. Make it happen." He said. My mouth slid open in amazement. A ball? He was going to have me educated in old-fashioned manners and dance and make me go to a stinking ball? Since when did he care about fashion and society? Was I suddenly being trapped in a terrible Jane Austen story?

"Arabella, close your mouth!" Draco whispered into my ear.

"Of course, my Lord. It will be a pleasure!" Narcissa replied almost giddy, "Please do excuse me while I owl Iris! She'll be so delighted!" And she bustled out of the room after a nod of approval was given from the head of the table.

"Lucius, you will start lessons with Arabella for an hour each afternoon starting tomorrow. Snape, your lessons will occur after Lucius' after which you will escort her to my chamber to finish off the afternoon. Lucius, let your wife know that before lunch is her time with Arabella."

"With all due respect, my Lord," Snape started, "Should I not begin with Arabella this afternoon? The sooner the better with Occlumency."

The Dark Lord pondered for a moment. I feared he would find some farce in Snape's request. "If you believe starting one day ahead of planned will be better, I will not deny that request."

"With all due respect, father," I butted in, "Don't you think I can schedule my own meetings and decide what I want to learn and study?"

"I am your father, and I know what is best for you. Even if you think otherwise. I also need to ensure that you are getting the proper instruction from the proper people, and that through these times away from other duties, my followers do not become distracted or forget their place." I wanted to reply with a bitter retort about how I was of age and he technically had no control over me, but yet again, I remembered I had no wand. And the look that my father was giving to his Death Eaters at the breakfast table was unnerving to say the least. Was there some drama going on at the Malfoy Manor? Was father suspicious of a traitor? Or was this the threatening look he gave his favorite followers out of pure love and adoration? Ha! I think not.

_A/N: What do you think? Please review! Happy Independence Day to everyone in the States!_


	4. Chapter 4: Flashback, 6th year

_A/N: Flashback chapter. It was brought to my attention by GeeTiger that it didn't make sense as to why Harry and Bella are at Hogwarts in this chapter compared to the last chapter. In the last chapter Bella and the group are 18. It is post-Howarts, non DH compliant. Here, we are back in 6th year. I'm sorry it's confusing. I wanted it to be a little confusing and everything would be explained later, but I do want you to understand that the first chapter was end of 4th year, the second and third were fast forward about three years to the summer post-Hogwarts and this was a flashback to 6th year. Savvy? Sorry for the confusion!_

**IV. Flashback 1—January, Hogwarts, 6th year.**

"Goodnight, Harry; Goodnight, Bella."

"Goodnight, Hermione," I replied back.

"G'night!" Harry said.

I sighed and looked into the fire as I heard Hermione's footsteps lead out of the library.

"I'm surprised Bells," Harry interrupted the silence that had lingered for a few minutes, "You beat Ron in staying up late, and I beat Hermione in staying in the library!"

"This is what intense research does to people."

The silence returned. It wasn't the awkward kind, where you feel like you have to say or do something to end it. It was the kind you want to wrap up in a blanket and take with you, so when things get tough again you can take it out and relive it. The fire in the casual reading nook of the library crackled and continue to burn. It wasn't roaring quite like it had earlier in the evening, but it continued to warm the area around the plush black leather couches where I sat with my best friend away from the cold winter nipping outside. I bent my legs under myself and leaned my head on Harry's shoulder.

"How are you holding up?" Harry inquired after a long sigh.

I lifted my head from his shoulder, biting my lip in thought. Before I answered, I let the last pleasantness of silence fade.

"'I just put one foot in front of the other/I take one single day at a time/I keep on breathing and believing...' The last line is 'even though you're not mine,' but it doesn't quite fit here."

"That good huh?"

We laughed.

"Could be worse, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, I mean what's worse than finding out you are the daughter of the man who wants to kill your best friend and are probably being forced into a marriage to someone who has terrorized you since the first day of first year?"

The bitterness in his voice made my heart hurt. We'd known each other for too long, since before first year. Hagrid had retrieved me first from the orphanage, and then, while I was at the Leaky Cauldron, he'd gone to retrieve Harry from the Dursleys. We'd both suddenly found out that we were magically inclined, headed for Hogwarts and a new future. We stuck together. Orphans, raised as Muggles, with dark pasts. We were fast friends, confidants, and each other's biggest fans. He could be completely honest with me and I with him. No matter what. And I wouldn't trade the relationship I had with him for anything.

"It's times like these where I say to myself, 'At least I'm not Frodo Baggins carrying the Ring to Rule them All to Mordor.'"

He laughed and I continued, "And it's times like these when I'm so glad you understand Muggle references, even the geekiest ones."

He turned on the couch to face me, taking my hands in his. He looked at our hands and then up into my eyes.

"Don't go back."

"What?"

"Bells, you don't have to return to Malfoy Manor. Come back home with me this summer. Run away. We can defeat your father together and you'll never have to marry Malfoy. You'll never have to deal with the Death Eaters. You'll be safe, and we'll save the world. We four. Together. The way it should be." His words came out in a rush. Half making perfect sense, half making none at all. It was what I wanted. More than anything. He was telling me exactly what I wanted, making me think that it could happen.

"Harry-" I started.

"No. Don't make excuses," he interrupted.

"How do you expect me to do this?"

"What? Come with me instead of the Malfoys at the end of the year?"

"Yes."

"Easy. You get off the train, see them, say "bugger off" and then walk away with Ron, Hermione and I."

"Oh yes, that will go over amazingly well. Because the Death Eaters present won't put up any kind of fight. They'll just agree to whatever I want."

"They can't make you do anything."

"Actually they can, Harry. I'm not of age yet. We have another year to go before we can do anything we want. Until then, Lucius Malfoy makes my decisions for me as far as the government is concerned. My father makes my decisions for me in reality. I have no choice."

"Can't we smuggle you out of Hogwarts at the end of the year?"

"How?"

"The map. You can use one of the secret passage ways and we can pick you up at another appointed time and place."

"They make sure everyone is on the train. Everyone."

"Bells, we'll just arrange it with Dumbledore. Why are you fighting me on this? You don't want to go back there, do you?"

"Harry, of course not! It just doesn't make sense! Malfoy will be making sure I'm on the train. The Death Eaters will be waiting for us. If I'm not there, a battle will go down faster than you can say 'pygmy puff,'" I said. I ran my hands through my hair. "Not even Dumbledore can argue with the law on the fact that I rightfully belong with the Malfoys because they are my legal guardians."

"It's just not right!" he exclaimed.

"Why not?" I asked. He looked at me almost shocked. His face dissolved into understanding quickly, though.

"Oh, no, no, no Bella Rose. No you don't. You don't go shrinking me and asking why I think this, that and the other."

"But, Harry, why isn't it right?"

"Because you aren't one of them."

"But he's my father."

"But you are Bella. You were just Bella before you were his daughter," I tried not to laugh at the irony of the falsehood of that statement. He went on, "You are one of us. You've fought on our side all along."

"It doesn't stop the fact that he's my father and I share his blood."

"Don't say that!" he burst out. He was going to lose his temper, I could just see it. "He's, he's despicable! How can you be related to that?" He was on his feet, shaking his finger as if Voldemort was right there, something with an offensive stench.

"Harry, Harry," I stood and faced him. "Calm down." I guided him back to the couch and knelt on the floor in front of him, laying my head on the couch cushion next to him. "I can't change who I am, but I'll do everything I can to help you stop him so this will end, so we'll all be free again, so that we can be friends without the consequences of this war." He put his elbows on his knees and hung his head in his hands. I just looked at him. I let the same silence hang in the air, only tension tinted it now. "Harry," I whispered, barely audible. "You will always be like a brother to me. I will always love you and I will always be here for you, no matter the time, place or danger."

He pulled me into a bear hug, whispering an apology for his outburst he didn't need to give. I said goodnight, heading for the door of the library that was going to be closing soon. He decided to stay and think alone for a little while longer. I walked the eerily quiet halls alone, thinking about what Harry had said. Would there be a way for me to go home with him instead of the Malfoys this summer? As I rounded the corner past the Charms classroom an arm grabbed me inside, clasping one hand over my mouth. The classroom was dark and whoever had me in his grasp wrapped one arm around my arms, pinning them to my chest.

"Don't scream," a husky voice whispered in my ear. I recognized the voice immediately and became incensed with anger. His grasp loosened and I went to spin around and give him a piece of my mind about grabbing me from the hallway like a bona fide creeper when he pushed me up against the wall pinning me to it with his own body. He held my wrists above my head and brushed his lips roughly against mine despite my attempts at protest. He pulled away and put his face next to mine to whisper in my ear, "Remember, you belong to me." Just as suddenly as he was upon me, he was out the door of the classroom. I lightly thumped my head against the wall, sliding down until I was in the fetal position, tears streaming down my face. _Oh man_, I thought to myself, _I am in so much trouble_.


	5. Chapter 5: Occlumency

_A/N: Hey, thanks for reading! Please review! Let me know of any errors or confusion! Thanks. Oh, and this is back to the summer after 7th year. So post-Ch 3. XO!_

_**Disclaimer:**_ The characters and events from the original canon of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling only, and I do not lay claim to them. I did create Bella and the events surrounding her life.

**V. Occlumency**

After taking a deep breath and tucking my hair behind my ears, I knocked on the large wooden door. Upon hearing the occupant call, "Enter," I turned the brass door knob and leaned all my weight against the heavy door to open it.

"Ah, Miss Riddle, a pleasure. Please close the door behind you and take a seat," my former professor, Severus Snape said politely. When the door closed I heard him cast a silencing charm on the room.

"So, any particular reason you wanted to get started on Occlumency this afternoon instead of tomorrow?" I asked without trepidation.

"Are you really asking me that question?" he asked sarcastically.

"I really asked it, I don't really need an answer, though. I'm pretty sure I guessed that at breakfast this morning. I'm just hoping my father didn't as well."

"He knows that Occlumency is something you start as soon as possible. You especially need tonight to practice in order to clear your mind before your lessons tomorrow."

"You mean, before my father invades my mind tomorrow during our lovely father-daughter time he's scheduled out of his busy day," came my sarcastic translation.

"Nothing's lost on you. However, before we get to the Occlumency lesson, I have some advice for you."

"I didn't know you were a therapist in another life, Professor."

"You really are starving for an outlet for your sarcasm, aren't you? And you do need to call me something other than Professor, Severus or Snape at the very least."

"Why?"

"It will become obvious to your father that I still hold authority over you in some position or other if you call me professor. Here, I hold no authority over you. Not in social rank, at least. Calling me professor may indicate that I had some authority over you at the Order." He looked at me pointedly.

"What's that look for?"

"I know you well enough that I am sure you are ignoring me," Snape said still eyeing me.

"I'm listening!" I protested.

He didn't respond for a moment.

"So what's that piece of advice you wanted to relay, Professor?"

He glared.

"I—I—I mean, Severus," I amended quickly. "Merlin that is weird. Can't I call you sir?"

"At least try to avoid 'Professor,' will you?"

"Sure, Professor."

I was met with a fiery glance.

"I did that on purpose," I smiled angelically.

"I know," he said curtly. "Anyway, I am advising you to do what you are told."

"That is all I ever hear from you people! Every other sentence out of Draco Malfoy's mouth is just that!"

"Yes, well that is to be expected, considering the source. I have other motives."

"Which are?"

"Mostly, keeping you alive."

I laughed. I mean, I didn't mean to, but my father made such a big deal about keeping me safe, and the Order was all for my safety too. What did I have to worry about.

"I'm sorry," I said, stifling the giggles.

"Are you quite finished?"

"Oh, yes, quite."

"Your father will do anything he can to get you to perform Dark Magic. I suggest you do it."

"What?" I burst out incredulously.

"Perform whatever magic he requires of you," Snape reiterated.

"No."

"If you don't, he is more likely to get angry enough to curse you, torture you, kill you," he put up a hand to stop me from protesting so he could continue on, "no matter what he may have promised to your mother. He has waited far too long and has come way too far to let your antics get in the way of his plans at power and immortality. So just do as you are told."

I crossed my arms in a huff.

"And it wouldn't hurt you to act your age."

I rolled my eyes at him and uncrossed my arms as he pulled out two wands. Handing me mine, which I hadn't seen in ages, he returned to the other side of the huge desk.

"Alright, let's begin."

"Aren't you going to teach me something before you start?" I asked, a little astonished at his ready stance.

"Did you and Harry Potter ever talk about _any_thing of value?" Snape asked.

"If you are referring to your Occlumency lessons, your definition of value should probably be revised. I would check the OED," I teased my old professor and mentor. "Not to mention, it was a bit of a touchy subject."

There was a grumbling I couldn't quite make out, before Snape composed himself.

"Clear your mind, and prepare yourself," was his only advice.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, but before I could think to erase the images of my Gryffindor friends from my mind I heard Snape cry, "Legilimens!"

_AN: This chapter was changed drastically from the original posted last summer since Snape did the impossible. Whoops. Hope this fixes things. :D_


	6. Chapter 6: Memories

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own any of the characters or plot events from the original canon of Harry Potter, they are J.K. Rowling's exclusively. I did create Bella and the events surrounding her life.

**VI: Memories**

By the time my lesson was over I was exhausted. Snape had invaded my memory numerous times and had yelled at me for being weak-minded. Well, easy for _him _to say. He was trained in the damn method of magical practice. I was a newbie. Now I knew why Harry had always been so irritable post-Occlumency lessons. I had given Snape a run for his money for a while before my mind grew too tired to fight. I was warned and reminded over and over again that my father would have no mercy when it came to my exhaustion, and I knew he was right. I wasn't looking forward to explaining some of my memories to Daddy Dearest. It was hard enough knowing Snape had seen some of my private memories, painful and happy alike. A lot of the ones he had pulled from my mind I hadn't thought of to hide at first. Memories of the orphanage I grew up in, getting picked on in my early Muggle schooling, my first piano competition. No big deal, right? But then came the invasion of my memories surrounding my first meeting with Harry, my first kiss with a Muggle boy, the fit I threw after I found out about my father wanting Draco and I to be married. Things my dad wouldn't be so pleased about if he knew about them. Before I left the office Snape had used for the lesson, he removed the memories of the letters I'd just received.

"Where will they go?" I asked before he removed them.

"I'll put them in a bottle and take them back to the Order. I've obtained a pensieve for you, and they will stay there, with the other memories we will deem necessary to remove for everyone's safety due to your father's sudden desire for you to have Legilimency lessons," he replied. I nodded before I let him remove the memories with his wand, the long silvery strand trailing from my temple down to the glass bottle. I felt like I'd lost something when he was done. The same feeling I got when I'd lost my car keys for the first time after finally getting my drivers' license (secretly, without my father's knowledge). I shook the feeling off and moved towards the door.

"Get some sleep. Make sure you clear your mind before you go to sleep," he called after me, I heard what he said but didn't process, just nodding at the floor. "And Bella?" he said. I looked up. "Good job, and good luck," he nodded encouragingly at me before I disappeared through the heavy door, looking down at my shoes again.

When I got out into the hall, I saw a pair of black leather shoes, attached to feet and legs. I looked up to find Draco leaning against the wall across from the door, arms crossed, a half smile pulling at the right edge of his mouth. I tried to think of a snide comment, but nothing came to mind immediately. So instead, I just looked back down at my shoes and started walking down the hall toward my room.

"It was that good, huh?" he said. I didn't answer. I wasn't in the mood. "Arabella?" his voice changed, concern adding an edge to his voice. I just continued to walk at a moderate pace in the direction of my bedroom. All I could think of was climbing between the covers and letting sleep take over, even though it was still early; the sun hadn't even set yet. Draco continued to follow after me. When we reached my room he followed me inside. I didn't have the energy to argue with him about decorum, privacy and my distaste for his presence, so I just went into the walk-in closet, closed the door and changed into pajamas. When I came out I went straight to the bathroom without a word to the young man who was now sitting patiently on my bed. Since when had he become patient? Since when did he keep his mouth shut and just wait for me? I shut the bathroom door behind me and looked up at the face staring back at me in the mirror. I stayed in that position for a while. Too tired to think, too tired to move. After a few minutes, I washed my face, brushed my teeth and exited. Without a further glance at Draco I turned down the cool, straight sheets of my bed and climbed in. I rolled onto my side and stared out the sliding glass door into the dark night.

"Arabella?" Draco said almost timidly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired. Goodnight, Draco."

"Okay...that's bull. What happened in there. You're acting like a zombie."

"I just want to go to bed. Please." Draco nodded and left.

No fight? What was going on here? As I heard the door click shut softly, I rolled onto my back and stared up at ceiling of my four poster bed. It was charmed, like the Hogwart's Great Hall ceiling to look like the sky outside. I closed my eyes, trying to clear my mind as Snape prescribed. However, that was harder than it seemed, and sure enough, I fell asleep thinking of the sunsets at Hogwarts, the ones I would sometimes go watch by the Lake.

I dreamt I was flying over the lake at Hogwarts during a clear, starry night on a broom, both Harry and Draco were with me, and we were all smiling and laughing: no tension, no fighting, no insults and no war. I woke up smiling. It was now night, the stars twinkling brightly above my head. I giggled slightly at the the thought of Harry and Draco actually getting along.

"What's so funny?" a voice whispered. Instead of sitting bolt-upright in fear, I calmly looked over at the chair by my desk. Draco was sitting there lazily, a book in his hand.

"Just a dream," I answered, "What are you doing here? What time is it?"

"It's just after 9. I brought you some food since you missed dinner," he levitated a tray onto my lap, "What did you dream about?"

"Just Hogwarts. Thanks for the thought, but I'm not really hungry," I replied, "How long have you been sitting there, anyway?"

"Not too long," he said, "An hour maybe," I gave him a skeptical look. "If you won't eat, will you at least drink some hot chocolate?" he got up from his chair, putting his book down and walking around to my side of the bed.

"Mmmm..." I sort of groaned in dislike. He sat down on the bed next to me.

"It's homemade chocolate, the darkest of the dark. The way you like it," he tried to bribe me.

"Black, black like my soul, is that what you mean?"

"We're not talking about how I take my coffee, love," he smiled.

"Glad you got the reference," I responded with a small smirk, it faded as he pushed my familiar purple mug filled with hot cocoa into my hands.

"Drink," he said sternly.

"You could've at least made me tea instead," I mumbled, taking a sip.

He knew I didn't like hot chocolate, but he also knew it worked when magic took a toll on someone. At least _something_ Professor Lupin had said during third year about the Dementors and dark magic had sunk in.

"What was that? Couldn't quite catch it," he indicated my bitter mumblings.

"Nothing!" I replied sweetly, taking another sip.

"That's what I thought," he smiled as I glared at him over my cup. "So, what happened tonight anyway? I don't think I've quite seen you so solemn before," he started, "Well, at least, not since..."

"Not since what?" I asked when he trailed off. He shook his head, indicating I should forget it. "No, Draco, since what?"

"Well, since the day you returned to Hogwarts after the night in the graveyard. Diggory's death and your father's return," he said, reluctantly.

"Well, yes, I suppose I was rather solemn that day," I responded, "But I also believe I had every reason to be." We both felt silent.

"Drink up some more," he indicated the mug in my hands.

"What are you really doing here?" I asked, taking a sip to placate him.

"Why so suspicious? I can't bring my best girl some food and drink?" he asked defensively.

"No. You always have an ulterior motive. If you don't, someone else we know does. And, wait, I'm your best girl? So you have more than one...so I thought! Knew I couldn't trust a Malfoy!"

"Hey, hey, hey now!" he started to get defensive. "You are distorting what I said..." he trailed off as he realized I was laughing. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"I was teasing you! Haven't you ever been teased?" I laughed, surprised, but pleased with the pleasant conversation we were having.

"Well, you seem to be in a better mood, Miss Arabella," he smirked, "I told you the hot chocolate would make you feel better."

"Yes, well, I would've been quite content to just fall back asleep and skip this little reunion," I hinted at his pushiness, reminding us both of reality.

"I wanted to make sure everything was okay after your lesson with Snape," he became serious as our friendly banter was forced to come to an end.

"It was just fine."

"Okay. Liar."

I smiled at this response. For as much as I disliked Draco and preferred my Gryffindor friends, he did know me very well.

"No, really it was..." I started and he gave me a look of disbelief. "...was just as bad as Harry said it was when he was forced into it."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he smirked in triumph. "Do you want to talk?"

"About what?"

"Well, sometimes it helps to talk about the memories someone forced his way into. Sometimes offering them up to someone else makes you feel less invaded."

"Talking from experience much?" I asked.

"Only slightly."

I took another sip of the hot cocoa, taking comfort in the warmth that spread through my body with every sip, contemplating his offer.

"He saw the memories I least expected first," I started. Draco didn't interrupt, he just nodded for me to continue. "My memories from the orphanage. I'd forgotten about all the good times I'd had with my friends there. I miss them now," I reminisced. I paused, thinking about the first memory Snape had invaded. Surprisingly, a smile spread across my face. I stared off into space thinking about the memory. "My best friend, Jono and I would go swimming in the ditch that traveled through town. Blackberry bushes grew along the ditch. We'd wade through the water and pick blackberries as we went, popping them in our mouths as we went, splashing each other, joking..." I broke off my narrative, my smile fading. I looked at my mug, nearly empty and then up at Draco. He looked at me, his grey eyes were not the steely grey I had become accustomed to in school. They conveyed some other emotion I hadn't seen in those eyes before. I couldn't quite name the change, but I knew from the feeling it gave me in the pit of my stomach that it was an emotion I hadn't thought Draco capable of before. Caring, maybe? Compassion?

I shook my head to break the connection of our gazes. "Anyway, that was a long time ago," I said, more to just pierce the silence that had filled the room than any need to actually say that.

"It was the same for me," Draco began, "My Aunt Bella taught me Occlumency, and the first memory she invaded was one I didn't expect at first, just like you." I held my breath. I hadn't expected him to share his experience and I was afraid if I said or did something wrong, he would retreat and refrain from discussing his first encounter as well. "It was the snowiest winter I ever remember. I was probably 6 or 7. I went out into the garden in snow-robes. I spent all afternoon making snow-wizards and a small fortress with a hundred snowballs, ready for a snowball fight. Realizing I had no one to fight with, I went inside to recruit someone. I wouldn't dare interrupt my parents, and the house elves were too busy. It was the first time I really felt alone. I ended up just making snow-angels and then later getting scolded by my father for doing such an undignified thing. Mother failed miserably at hiding her smile at my soaked clothes and chattering teeth when I finally came in to warm up..." He trailed off. Still staring into space he continued without a word from me, "I didn't really appreciate the next memory she saw, though. She latched on to one I was trying to hide. The first day of Hogwarts. After Potter turned down my offer to be friends in the entrance hall before the sorting, you stepped forward between us and introduced yourself to me. It was like you had sensed a fight might start and you went to defuse it before it could even begin. I looked at you and thought to myself, _God, I hope she is a pureblood. I hope she's a Slytherin._ I _so_ wanted to be friends with you. My aunt thinks that memory is hilarious. Especially since I terrorized you for years, calling you a Muggle and 'No Name.' But, I refused to call you by any fouler word for Muggles..."

"You mean the one you use for Hermione?" I supplied, interrupting him.

He ignored me: "You were just too good for such a foul word. And then, I refused to call you 'Bella'..."

"And you still do," I interrupted him again. He glared at me.

"...because of Aunt Bella." he continued as if the interruption had not taken place. "And your lack of last name allowed a rather harmless insult of a nick name to form."

"Why won't you call me Bella? Everyone else does," I almost pleaded with him. I'd been trying for years to get him to call me by my name. I always got the same response from anyone I had this discussion with: "Your name is Arabella," they would say, "not Bella." Well, I'd gone by Bella for 14 years of my life before knowing my full name was Arabella Rose Riddle, and it hadn't failed me before!

"Not everyone else does," he half-answered my question. "Your father would skin someone alive if they were caught calling you anything but 'Miss Riddle,' or 'Arabella' for those closest to you."

"Yeah, well, he tends to overreact," I rolled my eyes with my response. Draco chuckled. It was good to hear the sound of his amusement, since it so rarely appeared.

"Ari will do for what I call you when it's not by your full name. It acknowledges your full name, and thus does not appear to..." he searched for the right word, "...disrespect your father." A silence fell upon the room again. I returned my empty mug to the tray and leaned back against my pillows, looking up at the stars twinkling down from the ceiling of my bed.

"The first time I met Harry Potter," I supplied. Draco looked at me, confused. "That was the next memory Snape saw. A little uncomfortable to have someone else witness inside my head." I felt like I needed to share the more embarrassing memory as Draco had done for his memory about meeting me; then we'd be even. "Hagrid had retrieved me from the orphanage and then gone to get Harry from the Dursleys. I was staying at the Leaky Cauldron. I waited up for them to return, nursing a cup of tea. They walked in, soaked to the skin from the rain. I stood up excitedly and ran to get blankets for them. Harry and I were awkwardly introduced and were staying across the hall from each other. We ended up staying up late that night talking about Hogwarts and how excited we were, our past strange experiences that could now be explained by our magical abilities, and then the usual complete nonsense 11-year-olds discuss. We bonded over being orphans right away and we became fast friends. I was so excited to have a friend before we actually ended up at this strange school."

"That's a pretty broad memory," Draco supplied.

"That's the background. Snape actually tapped into a conversation Harry and I had that night about our pasts. The conversation in which I first heard the name Voldemort..." Draco flinched at the name but I just ignored him,"...and found out this dark wizard had killed his parents. It was the conversation in which I took sides. Not the best memory for my father to see, or Snape for that matter." I finished.

There was a loud pop and a house elf appeared suddenly. "Ah, Master Malfoy," it said as if people had been looking for Draco everywhere and he'd finally been found, "The Dark Lord would like an audience immediately."

"Thank you," Draco dismissed the elf. He turned to me, "Do you want me to get rid of the tray, or are you going to eat something?"

"I haven't decided yet," I admitted.

"Alright, then. I should go. Good night," he kissed me on my head, the way he did whenever he said goodnight since I refused to let him kiss me in actuality. I didn't like him, well not romantically. I wasn't cool with this whole marriage thing I was being forced into.

"Good night," I whispered as he headed towards the door. As he turned the door knob I spoke out again, "And Draco?" he looked up. "Thank you?"

"For what?" he asked, puzzled.

"Hot chocolate and a heart to heart," I said honestly. He just nodded and was out the door before I knew it.

I looked at the tray of food in front of me, suddenly not hungry. I felt embarrassed for some reason. I couldn't understand why, though. Perhaps I should not have thanked him. Perhaps I should not have let him in on those memories. Had I revealed too much? Anxiety replaced the heat of embarrassment as the fear that Draco's being summoned by my father might have something to do with our almost intimate conversation about memories. I moved the tray so I could get out of bed and then walked it over to the dresser against the opposite wall. Fear for tomorrow spread through me as I climbed under the covers again. I had a feeling my lessons tomorrow would be anything but pleasant. I nestled into my warm blankets trying to calm my mind and clear it before going to sleep. It was going to be a night of restless sleep, I could already tell, as an image of a small Draco making snow angels filled my mind.

_A/N: Sorry this took a while. I had trouble figuring out where this chapter was going. Hopefully you enjoyed. I apologize for inaccuracies from the events I alluded to in the first book, I don't have my copy with me so I couldn't look up what was actually said and done. Please please PLEASE REVIEW!_


	7. Chapter 7: Lessons

_A/N: IMPORTANT: I went back and edited parts of Ch 5 and 6. (Sorry for those who get emails when I update, you got 2 for Chapter 5 and 6 because I had to replace them with new versions.) I forgot to indicate that Bella was given a wand for her Occlumency lessons, and then it was taken back again. My mistake, so sorry!_

_Someone asked why Draco is not at school. The main story (not flashback) is set what would be after 7th year, not DH compliant, mostly HPB compliant, but not totally. (Like, the Malfoys didn't fall from grace, Lucius isn't in Azkaban...)_

_Please read and review. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review! Let me know what's wrong, what's confusing, what's good. Thank you to all the wonderful readers and reviewers thus far as well!_

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling.

**VII. Lessons**

Against my will, I woke to a warm, rough, wet...something. I lifted my hands up to feel a furry object half on top of me. "Ugh," I groaned as I realized it was Shadow, the small puppy that solely remained from the large litter the Malfoy's dog had given birth to in late spring. "Shadow!" I whined, but a smile spread across my face and I scratched the golden lab behind the ears. "I wanted to sleep!" I looked past the adorable puppy and saw Draco standing at the foot of my bed. "Well, good morning," I greeted him, "I see you are my wake up call. Or, rather, you sicced Shadow on me to wake me up."

"Well, I figured you'd prefer his slobber to mine, just don't tell your father," he joked.

"Well, his spit is technically cleaner than a human's," I argued, trying to lighten the joke he'd made at his own expense.

"Even early in the morning you are full of random facts," he faked exasperation.

"Did you know..." I started, mostly just to annoy him, but he rolled his eyes dramatically so I continued just to spite him, "Bat spit is used in muggle medicine for both blood clotting and developments for treatment for strokes?"

"Where do you get all this information?" he asked.

"Books," I said simply.

"Ah," he nodded, "should've known. Your nearly as bad as Granger. Well, now that I've got you awake, you should probably start getting ready. You have a rather big day ahead of you." I groaned, pulling the sheets and blankets of my bed over my head, taking Shadow with me to hide under the covers. "Excited?" Draco asked sarcastically in response.

"Oh, yes, more enthused than I've been in quite some time!" I replied with just as much sarcasm through the covers.

I heard a pop and a squeak as I realized Trinky had come with my breakfast tray and seen Draco there. "Trinky is not meaning to interrupt. Trinky is so sorry!" she said to Draco and then called as if to me, "Trinky will just leave Mistress' breakfast tray on the table." There was a clatter as I heard the tray land on the small table near the window where I ate at when my meals were taken in my room. Then, pop! and she was gone. Slow footsteps made there way toward my side of the bed. I remained still under the covers, barely breathing. The covers were ripped off over my head and I looked up to see Draco looking at me expectantly. I smiled, "Oh, hello there!" I pretended I'd not seen him yet this morning.

"Hello!" he gave a big, fake smile, which faded, "Up!" he said sternly.

"Fine, fine fine! I got up out of bed, putting Shadow on the ground so he could scurry toward my breakfast, jumping up to try and steal a piece of bacon from the tray. When I got to the table, I took a piece of bacon and gave it to him.

"You shouldn't feed him, he'll think you are a doormat and will give him anything," Draco said.

"I _am_ a doormat and I _will _give him anything," I laughed. Shadow finished his bacon and rolled onto his back, exposing his belly "He's too cute to resist!" I knelt down to scratch Shadow's belly in an answer to his silent request. Draco just rolled his eyes. I stood up and look up at Draco, "Alright, I'm up, I'll get ready, you're relieved of duty."

"My instructions are actually to get you up, fed, showered, clothed and to my mother's parlor," he responded.

"Oh, why do I need a babysitter all of a sudden?" I asked, sitting down to my breakfast. Draco sat across from me, but didn't respond. "My guess is Father thinks I'll skip out on lessons if you don't escort me to them or there's some dark wizard lurking around your house that Daddy Dearest thinks is too dangerous for me to come in contact with." Draco blinked once, but said nothing, "Or a combination of the two," I continued.

"Or, he could just want us to spend time together," Draco supplied.

"And what purpose would that serve?" I asked, "Other than providing another opportunity for us to annoy each other?"

"I won't dignify that question with a response," he said.

"Oh, but unwittingly you just did!" I smirked. "Where is your breakfast?"

"I ate already, in my room."

"Well, why? You could've woken me up earlier and I could've eaten with you, or you could've waited and eaten with me. That would've made me feel less like a prisoner having you watch me while I eat," I said, taking a sip of tea from my purple mug. A strange expression of something like surprise or hope swept across Draco's features, and disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Next time I'll be sure to arrange that," he responded, giving nothing away.

Not knowing what to say, I just nodded and picked up a fork, digging into my scrambled eggs.

After eating, showering and dressing in the robes that had been picked out for me (only after making a snide comment about how no one trusted my fashion sense, which Draco ignored), I was ready to go. As I moved to exit my room, Draco stopped me. He reached into his robes and pulled out my 10 ¼ inch rosewood wand with a unicorn tail core.

"What is this, let's pass Bella's wand around to every person in the building_ but_ Bella?" I asked.

"You'll be needing this at some of your lessons today," he held out the wand vertically and I snatched it gracefully up, "Don't abuse it," he warned.

"What the wand?"

"No, the privilege of having a wand," he said, "Your father might just take it away again."

"But won't it be taken away at the end of the day today?" I asked.

"Yes, but the Dark Lord could make you do all of your lessons without your wand," he argued.

"That would be cruel," I said, and then thought, _Because the Dark Lord is never cruel!_ Realizing what I'd said, I covered it up with a "Nevermind."

Draco opened the door to my room and we walked down the hall in silence. I wasn't sure what to expect from my lessons today. I was worried about being stuck in a room with Draco's mother all morning. It had to be better than what my afternoon was going to be like, though. An hour with Lucius, an hour with Snape and then...however long my father felt like torturing me with whatever his lessons were going to be. I hadn't decided whether the "torturing" was actually going to be torture, or was just a hyperbole for the misery that was going to ensue.

When we got to the parlor that was Narcissa's private ladies parlor, we stopped. Draco looked at me and a small smile spread over his lips.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"Incredibly," I said before I could stop myself. He took one of my hands, I didn't realize until he did that I'd been wringing them since we'd left the room. He squeezed the hand he took in assurance.

"Don't be. Just be yourself," he supplied.

"A sarcastic, insulting, Muggle-supporter?" I asked.

"Just be who you are when you aren't trying to defend yourself. My mother already thinks you are a wonderful young lady..."

"She does?" I interrupted him before he finished.

"Yes, she does. So just be your intelligent, sweet, polite little self and you'll be fine," he released my hand.

Draco had turned into a gentleman. I don't know how or when, but he had turned into someone I could talk to and trust. That scared me. Trusting a Death Eater? Trusting someone my father approves of? Something had to be wrong. There had to be a catch. Before I could think on it further, Draco had opened the door to his mother's parlor and guided me in.

"Good morning Miss Riddle!" Narcissa Malfoy greeted me with a smile.

"Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy," I responded.

"Oh, dear, it's Cissy. We'll be family soon enough!" she said almost excitedly, not noticing my flinch at the thought. Draco, however, did notice and glanced at me as he came to stand by my side.

"Good morning, dear," she said to her son. Draco went up and kissed his mother on the cheek from where she sat in a comfortable wing-backed chair.

"Good morning, mother," he said. "I'll leave you lovely ladies to your lesson," Draco said and made quick exit. _Nice alliteration_, I thought. I turned back to his mother, she motioned for me to sit in another cushioned chair across form her.

"Would you like some tea, this morning, Miss Riddle?" she indicated the tea set on the small table between our two seats.

"Please, call me Bella," I said. Then, realizing she wouldn't call me that because it "wasn't my name" as Father would put it, I amended, "Or at least, Arabella." She nodded and smiled, "And yes please to the tea."

"No sugar or milk, if I remember correctly?" she asked. I'd almost forgotten I'd had tea the night I was apparated with Lucius Malfoy more than three years ago. Boy, did she have a memory.

"No, plain is perfect," I said as she poured the hot beverage into the tea cup placed on my side of the coffee table. I waited until she had fixed her tea and taken a sip before lifting the cup and saucer from the table and then lifting the tea cup farther to my lips to take a sip. I returned the cup to the saucer in my left hand.

"Well, you know how to drink tea politely," Narcissa observed. I didn't realize I was being scrutinized and suddenly my palms began to sweat. "I didn't know what etiquette we would be needing to cover, especially before the Parkinson's ball." I blushed. I wasn't sure how to handle this whole experience. Should I feel offended and feel like I was considered rude or just humble that I'd grown up in an orphanage and always winged it when it came to fancy gatherings?

"No need to be embarrassed, dear," she continued, my blush had not escaped her notice, "Everyone has to learn at some point, and you were unfortunately denied the proper upbringing you would have had were your mother still alive, God rest her soul." Before I could respond there was a knock on the door. "Enter," Narcissa called and a small house elf in a tea cozy came in, announcing, "Madame Prideaux has arrived."

"Show her in, please," Narcissa responded. A plump middle-aged woman entered, wearing the latest fashion in wizarding robes in a light blue color, she was followed by another witch in equally fashionable robes and two house elves. I followed suit as Narcissa stood to greet the guest.

"Madame Prideaux, so good to see you again! Thank you for coming on such short notice," Narcissa went and embraced the woman in true French tradition, kissing each cheek.

"Not to worry, my dear Narcissa," the woman responded in a thick French accent, "Anything for you and your family." Then turning to me, she said, "This must be the child?"

"Yes, this is Arabella Riddle," Narcissa introduced me as I stepped forward, putting out my right hand to shake Madame Prideaux's. She gave me a weak handshake with just her fingers.

"Pleasure," she said. I just nodded and smiled. I glanced at Narcissa who was beaming again. "Well, let me see," Madame Prideaux began again, "Turn," she instructed, drawing a circle in the air with her pointer finger towards the ground. I turned around slowly as she surveyed me. "Hmm," she put her finger to her chin, "You say it is for a formal ball?" she asked Narcissa, who nodded in response. I suddenly understood, this was a seamstress to make a dress for the Parkinson's ball. Great. Fabulous. I wondered if Narcissa realized how little I cared about or knew about fashion, much less how I felt about shopping. I supposed having to stand and have a dress made would be slightly less miserable than trekking about Wizarding London to try on a hundred dresses.

"Well, let's start with measurements," the woman said snapping her fingers. The house elves and the other witch all launched into action taking my measurements and putting them down on a clipboard, while Narcissa and Madam Prideaux began to talk colors and styles. I started to glaze over and tune out, my mind wandering to other subjects.

If I'd thought this would be better than trekking around Wizarding London, I was wrong. Oh, so wrong. I was forced to stand on a platform for a very lengthy period of time as Madame Prideaux, who, Narcissa told me was the best (and thus, the most expensive) designer for witch's dress robes in Europe, waved her wand around lifting fabrics up to me, pinning them up on frame to get an idea of how to bring to life the sketch she and Narcissa had drawn up of my gown, which I might add, I didn't get to see. I think my lack of enthusiasm for the remainder of the morning was part of the reason I was "accidentally" stuck with a few pins when I really started to doze off. For some reason, the seamstress couldn't just take my measurements and return with a dress to be fitted at a later date. Maybe that's just not how things were done in the wizarding world. Either way, I was not a good candidate to be forced to stand for so long without moving or talking or thinking. I'd expected my lessons with father, Snape and Lucius to be miserable, but I hadn't expected Narcissa to torture me as well!

Just as my eyes had found a spot on the wall to stare at contently and my head started tilting to one side, the door opened. I heard someone chuckling from near the doorway and was shaken out of reverie. "Mother, poor Arabella looks as though she's being tortured by you and Madame Prideaux!" Draco remarked after he was done having a nice laugh at me. "You must remember she's not used to the culture of it all."

"Oh, Draco!" Madame Prideaux practically squealed with delight at the sight of him. They greeted each other and then Draco stepped forward.

"I'm afraid I'll be steeling Miss Riddle from you for her lunch," Draco indicated I could come down from the pedestal and I took his hand to help me down. Madame Prideaux pretended to pout, "But we've been having such fun!" she said.

"I know you both were having fun dressing her up like your own little doll, but she has lessons this afternoon and will need a short respite."

_Thank God._

With a wave of her wand, the cloth disappeared from around me and the pins went straight to the fuchsia colored pin cushion. I said a polite good bye with a "nice to meet you" somewhere in there, not really caring how animated I was. Draco guided me to the door and when he shut the parlor door behind us I was leaning against the wall exhausted and relieved to be out of the room.

"You definitely needed to be rescued," Draco began, "Thank goodness your knight in shining armor came," he indicated himself.

"Yes, because you had nothing to do with delivering me to torture at all!" I mentioned sarcastically.

He growled and responded, "Time for lunch."

"Time for coffee!" I corrected.

"You hate coffee," he remarked as we began walking towards the dining room.

"I won't when I'm perky enough to get through torture the rest of the afternoon. Maybe I'll be so perky I'll annoy everyone and I won't have to be put through this!" I thought hopefully.

"It's not torture, and you know it," Draco replied, quite serious.

My face fell and I looked at the ground, "I know." My thoughts went to the dungeons of the manor, where I knew some Muggles and disobedient wizards were kept and tortured brutally by my father, his followers, and even the young man beside me, "I know."

After Draco and I ate lunch, in complete silence, I was ushered off to Lucius Malfoy's study. Draco knocked on the door and then walked swiftly away, leaving me standing alone outside the large door. "Come!" I heard a voice call from the other side of the door. I took a deep breath and entered to find Lucius behind a huge wood desk, engraved with the Malfoy family seal as well as the names "Lucius," "Narcissa" and "Draco."

"Ah, Arabella," he put down the quill he had been writing with, waving a hand as the materials on his desk silently lifted into the air and placed themselves in a desk drawer to his right and stood, "I just met with your father to discuss what exactly he wanted you to get out of these lessons. We've decided we should go through the pureblood history Hogwarts' History of Magic class neglects as well as some of the Malfoy and Riddle family history."

"With all due respect, sir," I began, "Shouldn't my father be the one to teach me about Riddle family history?"

Lucius looked taken aback for a moment, but recovered quickly, "If you would prefer it be taught by him, we can discuss that with him."

"It's not that I don't think you are capable," I stated, "but I feel like I would like to learn about my family from my family, like most children do growing up."

"Of course," he said, "I'm sure your father would be delighted." He motioned for me to sit in a seat across the desk from him and seated himself again behind the desk. "Where shall we begin?" he asked, rhetorically, "Shall we go ahead with Salazar Slytherin and go from there?" I smiled politely and nodded for him to continue.

"How much do you know about Slytherin?" Lucius asked me.

"Only what Hogwarts has taught me. He's described as a parseltongue, pureblood, and power-hungry. He was a founder of Hogwarts who chose students based on cunning and pureblood status," I stated, sounding a little bit like Hermione.

"Very good," Lucius nodded. "Do you know who his last known descendent is?"

"Well, it would've been the Gaunt line. Meaning, my father and, well, me?" I said sheepishly.

"Exactly."

"Sir, if I might ask, is that why my father said 'your blood is as good as pure' to me at breakfast yesterday?" I asked, not knowing how upset this question would make Lucius and also feeling like that breakfast had been much longer than just a day ago.

"Precisely. The Slytherin line is the purest of purebloods. Just because your grandmother made the unfortunate decision to mate with a muggle doesn't make the line any less important in pureblood history. But she also created one of the most powerful wizards in history, your father," he stated.

"I don't understand how you can have a pureblood and then a purer or purest pureblood," I stated matter-of-factly, "What's the difference?"

"Just the magical power within the blood as well as the notoriety of the family," he explained.

"Then how do some Muggle-borns have magical ability, some better than purebloods?"

"They are descendent from pureblood Squibs who married Muggles and the magical ability just resurfaced in a later generation."

"So really Muggle-borns who can do magic contain the same blood as you and I?"

"Yes, but highly diluted with dirty blood," Lucius continued, his voice taking on a disgusted tone at the thought of being similar to a muggle-born.

"What makes blood dirty?"

"It belongs to a Muggle, someone who cannot produce magic."

"But the DNA structure is no different?" I asked.

"DNA structure?" he asked. I wondered if he even knew what I was talking about.

"The base content of the blood is no different than ours?"

"It doesn't matter whether or not the actual blood itself is the same, it matters that they do not come from a pureblood family, the magical gene is not present. They are deficient."

"But they are humans too."

"But they are unworthy. They cannot perform magic. They lack the knowledge and understanding of our world, our ways."

"I lacked that knowledge before I went to Hogwarts, just like Hermione and Harry. I'm ¾ blood, Harry's half and Hermione is a muggle. We all are as capable of performing magic as Ron or Draco, two purebloods," I argued. Lucius was becoming agitated as he realized half my questions were to learn and half were to argue with him and make a point.

"You and Mr. Potter had unfortunate upbringings as a result of a war. Ms. Granger is a Mudblood and does not deserve to learn magic."

"Please don't use that word," I said, "It's derogatory, and Hermione did better in school than both Draco and I."

"I will use the language I please, young lady. And if your father knew you were sitting here arguing over the morality of pureblood culture he would be very disappointed in you."

"Well, I'm disappointed in him for using his power to turn Wizarding London into nothing better than Nazi Germany was in the 1940s," I retorted back rudely.

"This conversation is over!" Lucius almost yelled, "We will return to the subject of Salazar Slytherin and his history and marvelous deeds for the wizarding world. Don't think for a second your father won't hear about this, young lady. Now, not another word out of you."

I crossed my arms just looking at him, waiting for my illuminating lecture on Slytherin. He droned on about Slytherin's upbringing, his accomplishments, and his family tree. The lecture was approaching the interesting stuff, like the Chamber of Secrets when a knock on the door interrupted the monologue. "Come!" he said, just like he had at the beginning of the hour. I looked behind me to see Snape walk in.

"Time for Occlumency, Miss Riddle," he stated and motioned for me to leave the room.

"Thank you for my lesson, Mr. Malfoy. It was interesting," I stated before I left. I tried to think of a proper apology, knowing that I had made things tense and uncomfortable, but I couldn't think of anything I was actually sorry for, so I just walked out the door. Before Snape closed the door, Lucius made a comment to him that I couldn't hear. Snape nodded curtly and closed the door, leading me toward the same office we had met in the previous afternoon.

His black robes billowed behind him in true Snape fashion, just like they did at Hogwarts when he stalked down the halls of the school. When he reached our destination he flung the door open and let me in before slamming it behind us. He stalked around to the other side of the table, placing his fists down and leaning on them.

"What exactly were you thinking?" he snarled at me. "What made you think it was okay to dispute your father's views in lessons with one of the Inner Circle?"

"I just-"

"No," he interrupted before I could even begin, "You weren't thinking. You cannot behave this way. You and your opinions must remain silent. You are the Dark Lord's daughter in the Malfoy Mansion surrounded by Death Eaters, Muggle-haters, murderers. You are expected to act in a respectable manner. Meaning, you toe the line. Meaning, you don't disrespect your father, you don't act like a member of the Golden Quartet, a Muggle supporter, or someone who has ever set foot in the location where an Order meeting has taken place."

"But-"

"No buts. Conversation over. You should know better. You are risking your life, a life that no one in the Order is willing to sacrifice. You need to remain in the good graces of your father and the Death Eaters. You need to remain safe. Should one side of this war fall, no matter the side, you will be safe and have a leadership position on the winning side, and quite possibly, should the Dark Lord fall, the power to change things for the better. As long as you are smart and shut your mouth. For now."

I swallowed the next comment I had ready, as well as my pride ,and nodded. What he said made sense. If the Death Eaters trusted me I would be safe. If they trusted me and father died, I could possibly be the one to make the decisions for them once their leader was gone. Decisions that could bring order to Wizarding London. But my behavior thus far had been nothing close to trustworthy, and the comments I'd made in Lucius' study would do nothing to help the cause.

"Now, Occlumency," he pulled out his wand. I followed suit, trying to clear my mind quickly, knowing full well the emotional upset of the previous conversation would make it difficult. "Clear your mind, prepare yourself," he stated, "Legilimens!"

"Protego!" I blocked before he could get to me.

"Good. Keep your mind clear," he advised.

"On it," I mumbled, trying to continue to concentrate.

"Legilimens!"

This time succeeded. He was in my mind, witnessing the memory of Draco and I talking about Occlumency lessons from the previous night. He released his hold on me and I weakly collapsed into one of the chairs behind me.

"Interesting," he drawled, a small smile spreading across his lips. I shot a glare his way. "No, this is very good, Miss Riddle, very good indeed." I raised an eyebrow, trying to hint that he needed to elaborate but he refused. I didn't try to push the subject. "Get ready again, your father won't let you rest," he reminded me.

I stood up, clearing my mind quickly and bounced his spell off of myself back at him. He protected himself as well, barring me entrance to his memory. We bounced spells back and forth, neither of us getting anywhere really when the hour was up.

"You did much better than last night," he observed. "I'd almost forgotten how quickly you learn spells."

I just nodded, tired and still aware of the lecture he'd given me prior to the lesson beginning. A knock on the door signaled my time to leave. Draco was there waiting to escort me to my father. When we arrived at the door of my father's "thrown room" or whatever you called the place from which he conducted his business, Draco stopped me before I entered the room. He put his hands on my arms and looked me square in the eyes.

"Don't be stupid," he said. "Don't provoke him to hurt you or someone else just to teach you a lesson. He may be your father, but he's also a very strong wizard who's not afraid to kill."

I looked at him, asking with my eyes his motive for telling me this.

"Just...walk out of there in one piece, okay?" I just nodded. He leaned in to brush a kiss on my cheek but I moved away before he could get there. I knocked on the door and waited.

"Come in, my child, come in." I looked once more at Draco, who just nodded encouragingly at me. I took a deep breath and reached for the handle of the door that would lead me to my lessons with my father, the infamous Dark Lord Voldemort.

_A/N: Not my best chapter, so sorry about that. But please let me know what you think._


	8. Chapter 8: Lesson Learned

_A/N: This chapter is originally the end of Chapter 7, but I didn't have the energy to write it last night. So here it is, sorry it's short. WARNING: it is very dark. REVIEW please please please! Thanks for reading!_

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does.

**VIII. Lesson Learned**

I stepped into the dark room. All of curtains on the windows were shut, letting no natural sunlight into the room. A few torches were lit along the walls and a few more candles floated in the air in random clumps near the corners.

"Close the door behind you, little one," my father said. I pushed the door shut and looked up to see him at the other end of the room. He had taken over the Malfoy's ballroom as his place to conduct business. A small platform at the end of the long rectangular hall where an orchestra could be set up was where a large wing-backed chair was placed upon which my father sat. Nagini slithered away from the platform and towards me.

_No, Nagini, it is my Arabella, _Father said in parseltongue to the snake, making it stop and slither back towards him.

_Just me, Nagini,_ I said in parseltongue as well. It'd probably be a good idea to be on the snake's good side. The snake stopped and turned around to look at me, as if surprised.

"I don't think Nagini knew you could talk to snakes, my dear," my father smiled at me, "I'd almost forgotten myself. It is not a talent many possess."

I didn't reply, but stepped away from the door that I was still awkwardly standing in front of. I moved forward, against the little voice in my head telling me to go the other way while I still had the chance. I came to stand a few yards in front of where my father sat.

"I am very much looking forward to your lessons, Arabella," my father began. To this I just nodded, taking a gulp of air I hadn't realized I'd been denying my lungs. "However, we have some business to attend to first." He leaned forward in his seat, putting the tips of his fingers together while his elbows rested on the arm rests of his chair. "Lucius Malfoy came to talk to me after your lesson today," he began. I looked at the floor, suddenly taking interest in my black ballet flats. There was a long pause. "Arabella?" I looked up. "Do we need to have a discussion about your behavior?"

"No sir," I mumbled under my breath, looking back at my feet. I felt like I was ten again, getting reprimanded for punching one of the boys at the orphanage for tripping me during a game of football.

"What was that?" he said.

"No, sir," I repeated, my voice clear, looking right into his eyes.

"Good," he said, "Because I was under the impression you were an adult and knew how to conduct yourself appropriately. I was under the impression that you would know not to provoke an argument over the different opinions in this war. If you have an argument to make you make it with me, privately. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Father."

"You are my daughter and your conduct reflects upon me. I expected better from you, Arabella. I confess myself disappointed."

"I'm sorry."

Fear, as well as Snape's lecture still floating in my mind, kept me from speaking out. "I confess myself disappointed." Those were the same words he'd used in the graveyard with his followers when he'd risen more than 3 years ago. Right before he'd used the Cruciatus on someone. Nott was it? Avery? Yes, Avery.

"I expected you to be able to handle the pressure of learning the pureblood ways, learning to take on a leadership role and carry on the legacy of your family name. I know you are capable of this and you are attempting to be like the despicable Potter you spent so much of you time with at Hogwarts," he waved his hand at someone in the shadows, "I don't think you realize the repercussions of your disobedience." From the shadows, two Death Eaters, Greyback and Rodolphus Lestrange brought forth someone wearing Muggle clothes, lips sealed and in chains.

"So, here is the beginning of your lesson for today," I began to feel sick to my stomach as my father pulled is wand out. "You will see precisely why Muggles are inferior." He stood and moved away from the chair, but did not step down from the platform. "Mudblood," he sneered at the prisoner, "you had no idea wizards existed, did you? No idea of the mere insignificance of your life?" I could hear the prisoner whimper in fear and cower away, but the Death Eaters, masked and cloaked held the man fast so he could not move.

"Father," I said before he moved any further, "this really isn't necessary."

"Oh, but it is. I don't think I've illuminated my point to you," he almost smiled.

"I think that I can gather what you are getting at. There is no need to use a captured Muggle to demonstrate your power to me," my voice was calm, but inside I was trembling. "This isn't the Muggle's fault, Father, I misbehaved. If anything, I should be punished."

"This will be punishment enough," he promised, "But I promised your mother no harm would ever come to a child of ours, and I will keep that promise. I would never hurt my own daughter."

I stepped forward, trying to think quickly about how I could intervene.

"Now, Arabella. Let's witness just how pitifully weak this Muggle is," he said. The Muggle suddenly began writhing and screaming in pain, obviously under the silent Cruciatus curse.

"No! Stop!" I screamed, darting toward the Muggle. The curse was released and my father held up a hand, indicating that I shouldn't move any farther, and I found I couldn't.

"See how he crumbles at the swish of a wand? He has no power over us. He has no ability to protect himself. No worth." The Dark Lord flicked his wand again and the Muggle was suddenly moving in a way as if he was responding to invisible blows. As more and more blows from an unknown object came, welts appeared, then small bleeding lines. I realized he was being whipped through some torture spell.

"Stop! Father! Please!" I screamed again. I pulled out my wand, but before I could get a spell out, my wand flew from my hand into my father's. I was silently disarmed in the blink of an eye. The whipping continued. "Don't hurt him, it's not his fault, he didn't do anything!" Tears were streaming down my face. I couldn't look and turned around and walked toward the door. Suddenly the cries of the Muggle stopped. I looked back to see him lying still, in obvious pain. I stopped, wondering whether I should rush to help him or run for the door.

"Draco," my father demanded in the shadows. I hadn't realized the blond had been in the room this whole time. I wondered how many other Death Eaters were lurking in the shadows, snickering to themselves at the display. Draco came to me and grabbed my arm, leading me back toward the horrid display my father was making. He placed me in front of the Muggle man and held me in place so I had to watch. "Don't make this more difficult than it has to be for yourself," he whispered into my ear from behind me. Chills ran down my back as tears streaked my cheeks.

"Arabella, this is for your benefit, you should stay and watch like a polite young lady," my father said. I just cried as the man was tortured again.

"Do you understand, my child, how inferior Muggles are? How inconsequential in comparison to my power? Your power? The power of a wizard?" I didn't answer. The torture continued for what felt like a lifetime.

"And now, you'll see that I have the ultimate power over him, filthy Mudblood. I have the power to take his life."

"No!" I screamed and attempted to break from Draco's grasp, but his hold on me was strong and before I could do anything I heard "Avada Kedavra" and a green light shot at the man and he went completely limp, all life leaving him forever. Another sob escaped my lips and I almost collapsed, but Draco held me up. "Stand up," he whispered, "Stay strong for a little while longer." He released his hold from my and stepped back from me.

My father made a hand signal and two Death Eaters moved the body from the room.

"My Arabella," he said walking toward me. "I know it was a hard lesson, but it needed to be learned. You understand now the power, the importance, your place?" he summarized.

I just nodded.

"What?" he asked.

"Yes, Father," I choked out.

He smiled and kissed my forehead. "Good. I think that's enough for today, don't you?" he turned and headed back to his seat. "Draco, will you take Arabella back to her room, please?"

"Of course, my lord," he replied bowing. I turned around and led the way out of the room. We walked silently back to my room.

When the door to my room was shut, I collapsed into tears, my legs nearly giving out on me. Draco caught me and turned me in his arms. I just buried my head into his shoulder and cried. Cried because I'd caused the death of another, cried because of the war, cried because I wanted to go home but didn't have one, and cried because I'd cried in front of all of the Death Eaters when I'd promised myself and Harry Potter, the boy who lived that I wouldn't cry, I wouldn't break down, I would stay strong. And I hadn't. Draco hugged me tighter, putting one hand on my head, and whispered comforting words I couldn't really hear.


	9. Chapter 9: Flashback, Third Year

_A/N: PLEASE READ THE DISCLAIMER-it will explain a lot._

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter, the characters or plots surrounding the original canon by J.K. Rowling. A few direct quotes from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban are used in this chapter. See chapter 7 of the beloved book, pages 123-130 in the American version.

**IX. Flashback—Third Year**

After the incident with Buckbeak, Malfoy didn't appear in classes until much later in the week. Thursday morning, however, halfway through double potions with the Slytherins, he swaggered in, his arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling.

"He's acting like some heroic survivor of some dreadful battle," Harry whispered to me from across the work table I was sharing with him and Ron while he continued preparing the Shrinking Solution that was our assignment for the day.

"He just wants attention," Ron added.

"How is it, Draco?" Pansy fawned over Draco, "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," Malfoy replied, grimacing as if he were in pain. When Pansy looked away, however he winked at Crabbe and Goyle. I rolled my eyes as Harry and Ron huffed a little.

"Settle down, settle down," Professor Snape said as if his class were just talking a little too much. Harry and Ron scowled at each other.

"If we'd been late..." Harry mumbled under his breath.

"Yes, but we've not been in the hospital after being attacked by a Hippogriff," I countered.

"It was his own fault," Harry said.

"I'm not saying it wasn't."

"What was that, No Name?" Malfoy said as he set up his cauldron next to me, across from Harry and Ron.

"None of your business," Harry said, a little protectively.

"I do actually have a name, you know," I said, "It's Bella." Malfoy just looked at me blankly for a moment, then turned back to Harry.

"Got a crush on her, do you?" he asked nodding his head to indicate me, "Is that why you seem so protective?"

"Why?" Harry asked, "Want to see if she's single for yourself?"

"Not that," Malfoy said, "I just think she can protect herself better than you ever could."

Harry moved to hit Malfoy, but I touched his hand to calm him down from across the table. "Don't start something. Just let it go," I said calmly, continuing to cut my ingredients.

A few moments passed as we continued to gather ingredients. Malfoy finished setting up and then looked around. "Sir," he called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm—"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Snape said without looking up.

Ron turned a ghastly shade of red.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed across the table at the blond.

Malfoy just smirked. "Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."

Ron grabbed his knife and pulled Malfoy's roots across the table towards himself. He began to chop them up furiously, so that the roots were all different shapes and sizes, slightly mangled.

"Professor," drawled Malfoy. "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Snape approached our table at a leisurely pace. He approached the bench and looked down his long, hooked nose at the roots. He gave Ron an unpleasant smile, "Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But sir— !"

"Now," said Snape with a dangerous tone.

Ron shoved his neatly cut roots, which he'd spent a quarter of an hour carefully shredding, across the table towards Malfoy. His face had turned red and he was shaking in anger. I pulled out a bag of extra daisy roots for him so he could re-cut his neatly.

"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," Malfoy continued, his voice full of malicious laughter.

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," Snape said, giving Harry his usual look of loathing.

Harry took the shrivelfig as Ron began to cut up the roots I had lent him. Harry skinned it as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy almost hitting me in the process. Malfoy smirked more broadly than ever.

"Here, Ron, hand those to me," I indicated his roots. "I'll cut and you get started on your own shrivelfig."

"Thanks, Bella," Ron said with a smile as he pushed the roots towards me. My potion was already brewing ahead of schedule, so I had time to spend making sure Harry and Ron didn't get left behind because of Malfoy's little antics.

"You shouldn't be helping them, No Name," Malfoy growled underneath his breath.

"You shouldn't be misusing your injury to get people to help you," I whispered, "And it's Bella!" I wondered to myself why he didn't bring the fact that I was cutting up roots for Ron to Snape's attention, but I just shrugged to myself and continued on, thanking whatever guardian angel was watching over me today. I didn't need to get the Gryffindors in any more trouble with Snape than we already were just by virtue of being Gryffindors.

After a several more minutes of working silently, I finished cutting up the roots and pushed them towards Ron. Malfoy decided to work up the conversation again.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked us quietly.

"None of your business," Ron said jerkily, without looking up from his shrivelfig.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury—"

"Stop baiting them, Malfoy, you'll just start trouble," I whispered underneath my breath.

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," snarled Ron.

"Ron Weasley!" I scolded. "There is no need for violence."

"—he's complained to the school governors. And the Minister of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this," – he gave a huge, fake sigh – "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

"So that's why you're putting it on," said Harry, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because he was shaking in anger. "To try to get Hagrid fired."

"Well," said Malfoy, lowering his voice to a whisper, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."

Just as Ron was about to blow a gasket, I grabbed the caterpillars, "Here, I'll do it," I said and then mumbled under my breath, "you pompous, good-for-nothing..."

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing," I smiled sweetly, but Harry, who'd heard me, was just chuckling underneath his breath.

His chuckling was interrupted by Snape just a few tables away, "Orange, Longbottom."

Poor Neville's potion had failed to turn the acid green color it was supposed to.

"Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Neville had turned pink with embarrassment and was trembling ferociously, almost on the verge of tears.

"Please, sir," said Hermione, almost pleading, "please, I could help Neville put it right –"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," said Snape coldly. Hermione turned a shade of pink to rival Neville's. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

Snape moved away and Neville turned to Hermione in fear, "Help me!" he moaned.

Malfoy just snickered. "It's not funny," I piped up.

"Dumb Mudblood always trying to be the best."

I finished his caterpillars and shoved them towards him, turning to look at him squarely, one hand on my hip. He looked up, surprised by my countenance.

"For one, she was just trying to help out a friend and fellow student, something you've never done in your life; two, she is not dumb, she gets better marks than you and you know it; and three, if you ever use that name to refer to anyone, much less one of my best friends, you will find yourself hexed from here to Podunk town, Nebraska." Malfoy just looked at me, shocked, while a huge grin spread across Harry's face. For once in my life, I hadn't been nice. I'd tried to keep Malfoy and Harry from fighting for more than two years now, but I'd finally stood up and put my foot down regarding Malfoy's behavior to his face.

"Hey, Harry," Seamus Finnigan interrupted, leaning over to borrow Harry's brass scales, "have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning—they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."

"Where?" asked Harry and Ron at the same time, without missing a beat, Malfoy looked up, suddenly taking interest in the conversation.

"You two have been spending too much time together," I teased them for saying things at the same time.

"Not too far from here," Seamus continued, looking excited. "it was a Muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here...," Ron repeated, looking significantly at Harry. He turned around and saw Malfoy watching closely.

"What, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?"

"Ronald...," I warned. But Malfoy's eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed on Harry. He leaned across the table at the two Gryffindors. I shot a glance over my shoulder to see where Snape was in the room. Hermione was looking at me in interest while still trying to mumble instructions to Neville under her breath. I mouthed "tell you later" to her. We'd gotten very good at reading each other's lips from across the room or over the boy's heads.

"Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?" Malfoy asked.

"Yeah, that's right," Harry said offhandedly.

Malfoy's thin mouth curved into a mean smile.

"Of course, if it was me," he said quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."

"What are you talking about Malfoy?" Ron asked roughly.

"Don't you know, Potter?" breathed Malfoy, his pale eyes sparkling with delight.

"Know what?" Harry asked slowly, suspiciously.

Malfoy let out a low, sneering laugh.

"Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck," he said. "Want to leave it to the dementors, do you?"

"Boys, I think this conversation is over," I said, eyeing Snape approaching our bench. I was half afraid of Snape but more afraid that a fight would break out between the boys. They ignored me.

"But if it was me," Malfoy continued, "I'd want revenge."

"If it were me...," I corrected to deaf ears.

"I'd hunt him down myself," the blond boy concluded significantly.

"What are you talking about?" said Harry angrily, but he was interrupted by Snape calling, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's..."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. Hermione continued to mutter instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth. Harry and Ron packed away their ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the basin in the corner. I stayed at the bench, putting my ingredients in their separate containers. I watched Malfoy look at his messy bench and then look up at the boys, his mouth opened to demand help, but before he could I forcefully grabbed his extra ingredients and their containers, putting his ingredients away for him.

"Well, No Name," he snarled, "I didn't know you were trained as a House Elf."

"Shut up and just be grateful, Malfoy," I glared at him, "Living in an orphanage for 11 years teaches you how to clean up efficiently. And how to deal with little snots who don't want to pull their own weight in chores. So, I'm a lot better than some at not letting your little antics get me down. Just leave Harry and Ron alone, they don't need you and your little fibs to get them all riled up."

"Who said I was fibbing about Pothead needing to know something about his relation to Black?"

I gave him a look.

"Oh yes," he just nodded. I took a deep breath and handed him his ingredients. I took one last glance at him, and then turned on my heel to head for the washbasin. "Oh, and No Name," he stopped me before I was gone, "Thanks for the help."

I just gave a curt nod and headed to the washbasin.

After Neville's potion worked on his frog, getting 5 points marked down from Gryffindor because Hermione helped him, we left the classroom. As Harry and Ron discussing how Hermione was getting good at disappearing randomly and reappearing in odd places, I thought back to the discussion with Malfoy. Why would he insult me and then thank me? Why compliment me while insulting Harry? What was up with his rude behavior that came and went with the hour? And why would he confirm his comment about Black to me?

Suddenly Hermione's bag split, sending us all into a frenzy trying to help her gather her books.

"You haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon," Ron said confusedly when Hermione handed him so books to hold for her.

"Oh yes," Hermione said vaguely, flashing me a knowing smile when the boys were looking away. I was the only one who knew about her Time Turner. That was the best part about being best friends with both Harry and Hermione without being the Boy-Who-Lived or the intellectual super star myself. I got in on all the action and secrets without having to let it consume me. Sure, I was worried about my friends, but I was able to concentrate on my own studies and just be a best friend rather than worry about my life, my past, my future. Not having family or people who knew my family gave me the freedom of having no one's expectations to live up to but my own.

"I hope there's something good for lunch," Hermione quickly changed the subject, "I'm starving."

"Me too!" I smiled, grabbing some books to help carry and joining her in leading the way to the Great Hall.

_A/N: REVIEW PLEASE!_


	10. Chapter 10: Early Morning

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling.

**X. Early Morning**

I woke calmly, but suddenly, my eye lids snapping open without pretense. It was still fairly dark, the stars above my bed sparkling brightly, but I could see the sun had started to rise outside. I opened my mouth, feeling like I'd eaten a lump of chalk. I could feel my heavy lids were swollen and my skin was sticky with dried tears. I rolled over and out of bed, heading towards the bathroom. I didn't know what time it was but I knew a hot shower would make me feel slightly more human. I turned on the hot water and let the steam fill the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the fan to eliminate the steam. I stepped in and took a deep breath, letting the heat wash over me and warm me through and through.

I thought back to the night before as I shampooed my hair. After crying for a little longer, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and mumbled an apology to Draco for drenching his suit coat. He sort of smiled, knowing I was trying to make light of my complete break down. I went to my bed and climbed in, not bothering to change out of my robes, eat something for dinner or prepare properly for bed. Draco sat in the chair he had been in the night before when I'd woken up for a late dinner, but I ignored him. I don't remember when I fell asleep or how, just that I was exhausted from crying and trying very hard to concentrate on anything but what a crappy day I'd had.

Once I was thoroughly clean, I stepped from the shower wrapping myself in a fluffy towel from the rack on the door to the shower. Instead of drying myself off, I just clutched the towel to myself and sat on the bath mat on the floor. I don't know how long I sat there, numb, trying not to think of anything. I chewed on a piece of towel, staring at the exquisitely tiled floor, letting my wet hair drip down my back, drenching the towel.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, "Ari?" Draco's voice came, "You up?"

"Yeah," my voice sounded faint, hoarse and outside of myself.

"I woke up when I heard the shower," he supplied, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," came my simple answer. Silence followed.

"Would you like some food?"

"Dunno," I replied. He sighed in exasperation. "Don't care." And I meant it.

"I'll let you get dressed. I'll be back in ten minutes to check on you, okay?"

"Okay," I said docilely. It didn't sound like me at all. I shook my head to try and clear the cobwebs and cloudiness, lifting myself off the floor. I stepped lightly on my wet tip-toes out into the main room and to the wardrobe. I opened the bottom-most drawer to pick out my favorite green sweatpants and a tank top, slinking back to the bathroom to change. The sun was up and shining through the glass sliding door, showing that it was going to another glorious June day. When I came out of the bathroom, brushing the tangles out of my long wet hair, Draco was sitting at the little breakfast table, sipping a cup of what I assumed was coffee. I sat down across from him, putting a small towel around my shoulders to pick up the water as it continued to drip from my hair. Draco slid a mug of steaming liquid towards me. I took it, looking at the liquid suspiciously.

"I couldn't find your purple mug," Draco explained. "I think Trinky hides it so no one else uses it." I just nodded, taking a sip of the liquid. Warmth filled me. "I didn't want to give you Earl Grey in case you wanted to go back to bed, so it's camomile and peppermint."

I nodded, giving him a weak but grateful smile. I pulled my knees up to my chin, resting my feet on the edge of my seat, nestling my mug under my chin, letting the steam warm me up.

"What time is it, anyway?" I asked.

"About five twenty," Draco answered, checkin his magical wristwatch. "You could get a few more hours' rest before you need to be up for your lessons," he offered. I just took a sip of tea and stared at the table. "Are you hungry? We could have breakfast," he supplied another alternative. "Arabella...," he started again when I didn't answer, but I put my mug on the table and got up before he finished. He was fishing to lessen the silences he perceived as awkward. I walked over to my wardrobe to the bottom drawer again and dug through my other Muggle clothes until I found a deck of pentagon-shaped cards. I walked back over to the table, taking the cards out of the container as I walked.

"Classical? Or Patience?" I asked, indicating my Exploding Snap cards. A smile slowly spread across Draco's mouth.

"Classical, of course," he said, pulling out his wand.

"Can you get my wand for me?" I asked, annoyed that I had to request it.

"The Dark...," he cleared his throat, "...your father has it still. "I'll just charm them so we just need to touch them with out fingers."

"It's gonna turn into full-blown Slap Jack," I warned.

"Slap Jack?"

"It's a Muggle card game. I have a Muggle deck of cards if you want to learn some games," I offered.

He just shook his head, "Your father would not approve."

"No, of course not," I responded, dealing the cards out. We played the game in relative silence, save for a few exclamations when cards exploded or points were won not to mention a few accusations of rules being broken. For a while I almost forgot who I was, who he was, where we were and what the day ahead promised for me.

"Okay, I'm done," I finally gave in, exhausted after a few hours of playing.

"Yeah, me too, that was a long game!" Draco sat back in his chair, picking up his mug. Silence fell on the table as we both took a few long sips from the mugs that refilled themselves automatically with hot liquid whenever they were less than half full.

"See, Ari," Draco paused, "Hanging out with me isn't so bad."

"I never said it was," I responded politicly.

"You've always insinuated..."

"Yes, well there's never been an opportunity to hang out before," I responded. "You do tend to insult me every time we spend more than five minutes together."

"I don't insult you," he seemed defensive.

"You do too," I responded.

"When?"

"You were mean to me before breakfast Sunday," I reminded.

"You were misbehaving on purpose," he said, "I was sent by your father to retrieve you."

"You insult Muggles all the time," I gave another example.

"You are not a Muggle, love," he responded.

"I grew up Muggle, and don't call me 'love.'"

"So did your father, and he's a great wizard."

"You insult my friends."

"Who, Potter and Weasley and Granger?" Draco asked.

"Yes."

"Those are not your friends," he said as if it was the last word.

"Um...yes, they are."

"No they are not," he almost growled at me.

"They've been my best friends since first year!" I exclaimed, my tone indicating that what Draco was saying was ridiculous.

"Then where are they now?" Draco asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Where. Are. They. Now?" I just looked at him as if he were crazy. "Where were they when you were exhausted after your Occlumency lesson? Where were they when you were sobbing last night?"

"Are you insinuating that you are a better friend to me than they are?" I asked, furious.

"Yes, yes I am."

"How dare you?" I shouted, rising from my seat and slamming my mug on the table, sloshing hot liquid over the top and onto the table. "They are not keeping me captive in their house. They are not demanding that I go places I don't want to and do things I don't care for. They didn't hold me and make me look at the spectacle that caused me to cry in the first place. You, Draco Malfoy, are no friend of mine."

"Oh? And where are your friends now? If you're being held captive, how come they haven't come to rescue you?" He asked, bitterly.

I faltered in my answer, my jaw opening and closing soundlessly, suddenly unable to give him a definitive answer.

"Yes. That's what I thought," he sneered. "You've been wondering the same thing. Do they still love you like the best friend you were in school? Why haven't they tried to retrieve you? Aren't you important enough?"

"It's not worth the risk. It's not worth risking the war," I supplied.

"Harry Potter's best friend isn't worth the effort? Having the Dark Lord's daughter isn't a leg up?"

"Not when an attempt at stealing me away could risk the entire outcome of the war!"

"Stop deluding yourself, Arabella! Why would your father have you under such tight security if there weren't the idea or possibility that otherwise your friends would come for you? They haven't even tried!"

"Shut up! You don't know anything!" I almost cried.

"No, you need to get real. You need to realize that they don't care about you as much as we do. As much as I do. And when it comes to being Arabella Riddle, you need to learn your place. I'm trying to help teach you—"

"LEARN MY PLACE? WHAT PLACE MIGHT THAT BE?"

"You are the Dark Lord's daughter and will act with the grace—"

"Oh, don't give me that crap!"

"SHUT UP AND SIT DOWN!" he yelled at me, his voice stern his eyes flashing. He was on his feet, so close he could use his height to intimidate me. I decided not to make him angrier and just obeyed. "You will sit silently and listen to me, refraining from interrupting until I am done..."

I glared at him, crossing my arms indignantly.

He continued, his voice softening as he went, "You will act...like a lady. Now, as I was saying. You are the Dark Lord's daughter and will act with the grace and character that reflects that. You are to stay in this house, not as a prisoner, but as his daughter and therefore our guest. You are to go places and do things befit of a witch of your social stature because you have the privilege to do so. And don't even argue with me about last night. You brought that upon yourself by misbehaving and mouthing off to my father about morality. You are lucky your father doesn't believe in using violence against you, or you would have been the one screaming in pain last night."

"That doesn't negate the fact that you held me and made me watch—"

"Under the orders of the Dark Lord himself," he said, sitting again.

"He's not God. You can make your own decisions."

"I can, I do and I will," he confirmed what I most feared.

"So you really are one of them," I said silently, almost in reflection. He looked at me silently from across the table, and I bowed my head, looking at the hands folded in my lap to avoid his gaze. "I'd hoped your heart wasn't really in it. I prayed that the boy who was occasionally sweet to me at Hogwarts, even if it wENT against his Slytherin nature, would turn into a man who could see that the father he so idolized wasn't always right."

"I was sweet to you in school because I was in love with you," he confessed suddenly. I looked up at him. "Yes, I've fancied you since that first day I met you. I think I've been in love with you since you walked into the Yule Ball Fourth Year."

"But you still thought I was a Muggle. We didn't know I was a Riddle until the end of Fourth Year," I argued.

"I know," he said flatly. I stood up and moved toward the sliding door, looking out onto the Malfoy's garden. "So you can imagine how pleased I was to learn you were the Dark Lord's daughter. Even more pleased to hear you'd be spending summers with us since your mother had appointed my parents official guardians before her death. And then learning that the Dark Lord wanted us to be married one day..." He had risen from his seat, and walked towards me. "Bella," he breathed the name I'd never heard him say before and I looked at him startled to hear the word on his lips. "I know you don't love me," he began. "Hell, you don't even like me. But just because I'm a Death Eater, a member of the group opposing your original position in this war, doesn't mean I don't have a heart that can love, be loved, or be broken. Whether you like it or not, you are stuck with me. As your boyfriend..."

"Which you are not! I am happily single!"

"...fiance, and then husband," he continued, ignoring my comment.

"No! No! NO!" I shouted. "I won't let you all just decide my life for me! Why can't I be who I want to be!"

"You can be," he said calmly, taking another step toward me.

"Just under my father's preset conditions," I supplied.

"Precisely," he stated matter-of-factly. A sob I'd been holding back escaped unpredictably. I was able to choke back the tears before they poured unceremoniously from my eyes. He moved to embrace me, but I turned from him.

There was a loud pop signaling Trinky had brought my breakfast tray. I heard her set it down on the table and then, with another pop, she was gone without a word. There was another long silence as I waited, hoping he would leave to go eat in his room.

"I had them bring both our trays here," Draco broke the silence timidly. Then I remembered that I had indicated he should eat with me from now on since I hated being watched. Mustering up some of that courage notoriously strong in Gryffindors, I took a deep breath and turned around, "Alright then, breakfast time."

_A/N_: _I ended this chapter a little early so I could post sooner rather than later. So you can't complain about length! PLEASE REVIEW! Thank you to all of my readers and reviewers, you are all fabulous and inspiring!_


	11. Chapter 11: Dancing Lessons

_A/N: Here you go! Sorry it took a while._

_**Disclaimer**_: I do not own Harry Potter, STILL! It's J.K. Rowling's only!

**XI. Dancing lessons**

We finished up our breakfast in silence and I changed into some appropriate robes before heading down to Narcissa's parlor for my first lesson. At the door, I stopped before knocking.

"Alright then, Malfoy," I used his last name to add some distance I so desperately needed after this morning's fight. "I'm here safe and sound, see you for an escort to lunch."

"Actually, I'll be joining you today," he knocked on the door before I could say anything, smirking at my shocked look.

"Come in!" came Narcissa's call. Draco opened the door, waiting for me to enter. I continued to look at him suspiciously as I entered the room.

"Good morning!" came Narcissa's greeting.

"Good morning," I replied, trying to hide my discomfort.

"I'm so looking forward to today's lesson! I loved dancing when I was your age."

"Dancing?" I asked, trepidation adding an edge to my voice.

"Why, Draco didn't tell you?" Narcissa asked, "He's joining our lesson so you can begin to learn the dances you'll need to know for the Parkinson Ball. Draco, why didn't you let her know?"

"Must've slipped my mind, Mother," he smiled politely, I sent him a nasty look. Pureblood culture was starting to look more and more similar to 19th Century Muggle culture: the balls, the different types of dances, the suitors, the etiquette.

"I'm afraid I don't dance," I admitted.

"But of course you do! If you can walk, you can dance," Narcissa said.

"No, really," I insisted, "I'm not being modest. You don't want to witness the disaster that would be me dancing. How about we just stick to teaching me table chat? That way I can mingle and not have to step on any toes on the dance floor."

"That's just not an option, my dear. Everyone in Pureblood culture dances. And your father's instructions were quite clear...," she said, meaning there was no real argument to be had. "I'm sure it's that you were just never properly taught."

"Oh no," I said quite bluntly, "I did Muggle tap and ballet when I was a little girl. There is a reason I quit." Draco snickered behind his hand, hiding his smile from his mother. I looked at him when his mother turned back to the huge gramaphone, sending him a fierce glare. He tried to give me an innocent look but failed miserably.

"Where should we start, Draco?" his mother asked him, "Something simple, perhaps?"

"Waltz?"

"Precisely. Standard, International, Cross step and Viennese?"

"That should cover it."

"And then, Polka, Varsoviana, Schottisch, Mazurka, Redowa?" Draco nodded in response.

"These sound like Muggle dances to me," I interrupted.

"The Muggles did adapt some to their liking, but you will learn the traditional Pureblood versions, of course," Narcissa insisted. "Alright now, into position." Narcissa fussed over the gramaphone as Draco came towards me.

"I assume you know enough about dancing to know where to put your hands," he drawled.

"If it's anything like the movies, yes," I said, continuing before he could ask what movies were, "But I'd sooner touch an angry Hippogriff than you," I added, still disgusted with him over this morning

"Well get over it, I'm what you've got," he said grabbing my left hand and pulling me towards him. I reluctantly put my other hand on his shoulder and he smiled smugly as he wrapped his arm around my waist.

We danced all morning. Between glares and snide comments I got all my pent-up frustration from the early morning fight out. I soon had to concentrate too hard on the complicated dance steps to be preoccupied any further with being rude to Draco. By the end of my lessons I had down the Standard and International Waltzs. I was okay at the Cross Step and really slow at the Viennese, which is apparently really quite fast. Instead of moving on to other dances, Draco suggested we review the traditional dance we learned for the Yule Ball during Fourth Year. Surprisingly it only took once through the steps for me to remember how it went. Draco danced with his mother to demonstrate each dance before we learned the steps. They were both elegant, flawless dancers. It was clear Narcissa adored her son, and Draco loved his mother dearly. I was a little jealous of both their dancing and their close relationship.

"Mother, we should stop, it's about lunch time," Draco, the level-headed time keeper that he was, had spared me from another dance. It was clear I was tired and hungry, I had started drooping in his arms and missing simple steps.

"Ah yes, of course," Narcissa stopped the gramaphone. "Well, done, Arabella. We've made great progress. Tomorrow we'll review what you've learned and move on." I thanked Narcissa and Draco and I left the room, heading towards the dining room for food.

"And you said you couldn't dance," Draco accused of me.

"I can't! Were you not counting the number of times I stepped on your feet, or had to stop because I got lost?"

"No, I wasn't," he replied honestly, "But you catch on a lot faster than most. I usually can't get through one dance, let alone four, when I'm trying to teach someone to dance."

"So you've done this before?"

"What? Been conned into being the dance partner for one of Mother's friends who needs help learning to dance? Yes. Too many times," he sounded a little exasperated.

"You are a lovely dancer," I complimented him as we reached the dining room. He nodded a thank you as he opened the door to the dining room.

I stepped in to the room and looked up, stopping in my tracks at the sight. Draco followed me in and, not expecting me to stop, walked right into me.

"Pansy? Blaise?" Draco exclaimed, surprised. "What are you two doing here?"

"We've come to visit, Drakey," Pansy replied, with a sickly sweetness to her voice.

"Your father invited us for lunch, said something about you two needing to see people your age more," Blaise filled in, standing up to shake Draco's hand, embracing him in a man-hug.

"Good to see you, mate," Draco said.

"Don't I get a hug, Drakey?" Pansy whined.

"Pansy...," Draco began.

"Bella," Blaise interrupted before things got too awkward, "Good to see you again."

"Blaise," I nodded and smiled. Of all of Draco's old Slytherin pals, Blaise was my personal favorite.

"It's Arabella, Blaise," Draco corrected.

"No, Bella is fine," I insisted

"Just not around your father, I know, I know," Blaise said. I gave Draco a significant look. If Blaise could make the effort to use my preferred name to my face, couldn't Draco?

"Pansy, you look well," I stated. Saying 'good to see you' or 'a pleasure as always' were just lies, so I punted.

"As always," she said vainly. I felt my fists tighten at my sides in displeasure at her, but before I could grind my teeth in frustration, Draco grabbed one of my hands, giving it a squeeze.

"Shall we eat?" Draco motioned towards the table. Blaise and Pansy turned, "Deep breaths, it'll be fine," he whispered in my ear and I nodded. "But behave yourself," he added before leading me to the table.

"Don't tell me what to do!" I whispered forcefully back, but he just ignored me.

We sat down to an elaborate, but light lunch, salads with grilled chicken, sandwiches and soup. The perfect summer meal, in my opinion. Perhaps only second to a BBQ or picnic. Cool lemonade and water quenched the thirst I'd built up dancing, and my purple mug with some Earl Grey tea appeared halfway through the meal to give me another boost for the rest of the day. I silently thanked Trinky for knowing me so well already.

"So Draco, Bella, what have you two been up to?" Blaise asked after we had started eating.

"Ari has begun lessons this week," Draco informed the others.

"Lessons?" he asked turning to me.

"Yes," I responded. "My father suddenly sees fit that I begin to learn about Pureblood etiquette, culture and history. The Malfoys are graciously taking care of that. Severus Snape has been appointed to teach me Occlumency and Father himself is doing private lessons with me as well."

"Wow, this is quite the endeavor," Blaise commented. "How's the etiquette and culture lessons? Interesting to mock or completely boring and useless?"

"Blaise...," Draco warned. I just laughed.

"I'm just saying, mate...," Blaise defended himself.

"Well Pureblood culture education is a time honored tradition," Pansy cut in, "And only some people are really capable of understanding and perfecting it. Only those with the purest blood." I sensed an insinuation and obviously Draco did too because he cut in quite quickly.

"Yes, Pansy, and I believe as an heir of Slytherin and the Dark Lord's daughter, Ari will excel," he defended me. She sniffed haughtily. There was a short silence before Blaise took a deep breath and plunged right into another conversation. That boy knew exactly how to keep tensions from running too high.

Blaise and Pansy updated us on what they'd been up to since graduation from the Dark-Lord-controlled Hogwarts. Blaise had been visiting various post-grad schools, wanting to go into Hit-Wizarding or Gringott's Code Breaking. Pansy had been touring France and Italy with her parents. Blaise and Draco talked about Quidditch for a half hour towards the end of the meal, Pansy rolling her eyes. I knew that look, it was the same look Hermione gave Ron and Harry when they started talking Quidditch two seconds before she pulled a book out of her robes to ignore them. Fortunately for me, I'd played as a Chaser at Hogwarts for a few years, so I was able to join in on the conversation (much to Pansy's dismay).

"Well, I should be getting Ari to her next lesson," Draco stood, putting his cloth napkin next to his plate. "It was good to see you both."

"Likewise," Blaise said. "We'll be around later in the week again, I'm sure." He winked. Draco nodded and I wondered what they were up to.

"Drakey, can I have a word?" Pansy practically begged. "Privately?"

Draco cleared his throat, "Perhaps once I escort Arabella to her next lesson."

"I think I can manage to get to your father's office just fine," I defended myself, "Go ahead and talk to Pansy."

"No, I'll escort you," he said, giving a nod to Pansy and Blaise.

"Good day to you both," I nodded to Blaise and Pansy, avoiding again saying that it was a pleasure to have Pansy around.

"Why can't I walk alone?" I asked Draco when we were out of earshot of the others, "Pansy obviously had something important to say."

"I already know what it is, and I don't want to hear it," Draco said bitterly.

"Oh?" I asked. He didn't elaborate. "So you are using me as an excuse to get away? A delay?"

"Partly. And also, you need a reminder," Draco said bluntly, stopping suddenly to look at me sternly halfway to his father's office. "Don't go mouthing off today."

"I know, I know," I said, looking down.

"Just—just behave okay? You know what is expected of you by everyone here."

"I don't need a lecture," I commented. "I'll be an angel." He gave me a skeptical look, "See my halo?" I said, using my hands to make a fake ring around my head.

"Only because it's held up by two little horns," he teased.

"Why, Draco Malfoy, I didn't realize you had a sense of humor!"

"You know I do," he commented.

"You tend to loose it around other people," I observed aloud.

"Other people expect things of me," he stated.

"And I do not?"

"No."

"How do you know?" I quizzed.

"You expect nothing from anyone," he observed.

I looked at him puzzled. I wasn't sure that was true, but had no response.

"I can be myself around you without fearing being disowned or rejected."

I instantly felt embarrassed and then ashamed. I had rejected him plenty of times. Rejected his affections, his advances, his sweetness. I looked down. He seemed to understand.

"No, not like that," he corrected. "You don't reject my personality because it's not what you envision me being."

"You are who you are," I shrugged, "No one can or should change that."

"Exactly," he whispered. We started walking again. I thought back to Sixth Year. I had found Draco crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, before the incident with Harry and the Half-Blood Prince's spell almost killing him. We weren't friends at the time, but linked only through my father's wants for us to be together and his new Dark Mark. I had heard him and walked in. He tried to cover his face, his tears, and his red, swollen eyes when he saw me. He was ashamed to cry. I had asked him what was wrong, but he just shook his head, not willing to share. I had looked at him, then and said the same thing I'd said many times to Ginny and Hermione (and yes, even Harry) during taxing conversations. "No judgement," I'd said. He'd looked up at me confused. "I won't judge you. I'll be a Big Fat Tree of No Judgement," I'd put my arms above my head as if I were a tree, "proverbially speaking, of course." He'd cracked a smile and then, a little less reluctantly, confessed to his stress, his exhaustion, his feeling of failure, without divulging any of the details of his mission for the year. Perhaps that's what he was referring to when he said I didn't reject him. I didn't judge him. Did the people that judge him reject him for who he really was? Did he have to hide parts of himself to be accepted by his family and friends?

When we reached the study door, my pondering was forced to the back of my mind. Draco turned and looked at me, "Remember...,"

"Halo," I interrupted, just pointing to an imaginary spot above my head. He nodded, brushing a kiss across my cheek before turning on his heel and heading back the way we came. I watched him go for a moment before raising my hand to knock on the large door in front of me.

"Come," was the response, just as it was yesterday. I stepped in and Lucius Malfoy was sitting behind his desk, "You're late," he responded.

"I apologize sir, lunch with Blaise and Pansy must have run late."

"Purebloods are never late," he said, sternly. I bit my tongue from making a snide comment. I couldn't tell if he was reminding me I had to be perfect, or reminding me I wasn't a Pureblood.

"Yes, sir," I nodded instead of arguing.

"Sit down," he said and I did so, "We'll begin where we left off yesterday." As I leaned back into the plush seat, my mind wandered away from the Pureblood history that Lucius was weaving for me. I sat and thought about what Draco had said, the memory from Sixth Year and what Pansy wanted to talk to Draco about.

"Miss Riddle?" I heard a voice, "Miss Riddle, are you listening?"

"Wha—Pardon?" I was pulled from my reverie.

"I asked you a question. In what year was Slytherin born, and in what year did he help establish Hogwarts?" I was being quizzed and unfortunately hadn't been listening.

"Born 957, established Hogwarts 1003," said a voice from behind me.

"I did not ask you, Draco," Lucius snarled towards the boy who was leaning against the door frame to the study.

"Well, it's time for Arabella's Occlumency lesson," Draco stated.

"Miss Riddle, I expect a roll of parchment on Salazar Slytherin for Friday," Lucius stated menacingly.

"Yes, sir," I nodded, getting up from my chair. I wanted to argue about how I'd done my time and graduated from Hogwarts and didn't want to do anymore homework, but I resisted by looking at Draco when I turned away from Lucius and mouthing "Halo!" He had significant trouble resisting the smile that threatened to spread across his face.

"I take it that lesson was significantly better than the last one?" Draco asked when we were out in the hall.

"Better, meaning I didn't insult anyone? Yes. Better, meaning it was a riveting, informative hour? No. I was bored, tuned out and now have homework," I practically whined.

"Well, if you need help with the essay, just let me know," he offered.

"It's not like it's for a grade or anything, right?" I shrugged it off.

"No, but when have you ever been able to knowingly do less than perfect?"

"Knowingly? Probably not ever."

"Case in point," he stated smugly, "I'll help you."

"I'll use the library first if I can get permission. Remind me to ask Father about it," I said before knocking on the door to my Occlumency lesson room.

"Remember to be angelic," he said after we heard Snape call me in.

"How could I forget?" I smiled mischievously. Draco just shook his head as I turned and entered the room.

There was a cauldron brewing the corner when I entered, filling the room with a haze that made it darker, almost ominous.

"Hello, sir," I greeted Snape, trying to pull him from his reverie, staring into the potion.

"Ah, Miss Riddle, yes," he gave the potion one last stir and then moved toward the desk. Opening a drawer he pulled out my lovely wand and handed it to me, "Shall we start?"

"What's the potion for?" I asked.

"Nothing of your concern," he said bluntly, "Now, prepare yourself."

I cleared my mind quickly, just before I heard him yell the curse I was so used to now. I protected myself from it easily, more easily than ever before.

"Good, good," he said and then yelled it again with no warning this time. I bounced the curse back at him and he was hit, unprepared. Suddenly I was in one of his memories. I could see Snape, much younger, but still a grown man. He was standing in the entrance hall to a very large house, a mansion almost. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a dim light on the room. The marble floors gleamed and the fresco elegantly painted above the chandelier made the room feel like a cathedral. There were footsteps on the huge staircase leading from the floor above down the center of the room. Snape and I both looked up as a young woman walked down the stairs, one hand on the railing, one hand holding her skirts up so she wouldn't trip.

"Severus," she said, as she approached, "What a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting company today." I looked closely at her as she came closer and embraced Snape. She had the same dirty blond hair that I did, only she'd had the patience to grow it out much longer. She had the same oval-shaped face and petit nose that marked my features, her bright green eyes sparkling.

"Ann Marie," Snape greeted her, confirming my suspicions as to who this woman was.

"What brings you here?"

"Is there somewhere we could talk?" he asked, "Privately?"

"Of course, let's go into the parlor," she waved to the left and I followed the pair into a large room, decorated in pale yellows and deep blues. The fire in the fireplace was dying, but with a wave of her wand, the woman named Ann Marie had it blazing again.

"What's troubling you?" she asked.

"You are," Snape revealed.

The woman laughed. Her laugh was musical, like bells tinkling along to their own tune. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Snape grounded his teeth. "You are playing with fire, and sooner or later you are going to get burned."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, feigning complete confusion

"I know," he whispered.

"Know what, Severus?"

"I know that you have come here to help the Order," Snape said.

"How could you accuse of me of such a thing?" she said angrily.

"Why else would a nice, loving girl like you agree to marry the Dark Lord?"

"Perhaps I'm in love with him, is that so hard to believe?" She stuck her chin in the air.

"Yes!" he said, quickly. It was followed by the musical laughter yet again.

"Severus," she settled down, "You sound exactly like you did when you found out Lily was dating Potter!"

"This is serious!" A frown sharpened his features. "I'm afraid for your safety."

"Severus, what would Tom say if he heard you talking like this? How would he feel if he knew one of his most trusted followers didn't trust him enough to treat his fiance the right way?"

"You won't tell him?" Snape said, fear lacing his voice.

"No, of course not," Ann Marie looked at him with a small smile. "This is a conversation between friends," she reached toward him, placing a reassuring hand on his arm.

"Then, as an old friend," Severus said severly, "I'm asking you to reconsider. To leave."

"Severus, I can't."

"Yes, you can. Your safety is at stake."

"I don't agree. He loves me. He won't harm me," she tried to sound reassuring, but her voice wavered as well.

"You are just as afraid as I am," Severus pointed out.

"I can't stop, Severus. I've learned so much already. I know I can help."

"But don't think for one second you can reform him. He is incapable of love," Snape said. She didn't respond, but was obviously fishing for words. "Aha! See, you did think you could change him. You can't, Ann Marie, just stop thinking that. You need to get out; you are way too involved."

"No, Severus," she said firmly, "This was my assignment and I will carry it out." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "The Order has been using some of the information I have gained and it is making a difference. We'll find a way to defeat him."

"Ann Marie..."

"END of conversation!" Silence followed. "Severus," she broke it, moving to embrace him, "I'm sorry. I just, I need to do this."

"Just don't get yourself hurt," he said gruffly.

"I won't," she smile, giving him a hug. A door slammed in the mansion somewhere as the memory was fading.

"He's coming. You should go..." Ann Marie ushered Snape from the room as I found myself back in the room in the Malfoy's Manor, looking at the older, present-day Snape seated across the table from me.

"You knew my mother?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Yes," he answered, his voice soft. I hadn't expected him to, "She was my best friend at Hogwarts."

"She's your age and she married my dad?" I exclaimed.

"His method of ensuring his immortality prevented him from aging as quickly as others," Snape explained.

"And she was—"

"I think that's enough for today, Miss Riddle," he interrupted, his voice full volume again. I nodded my head, disappointed that I couldn't get my questions answered about my mother. Was she really a double agent for the Order? Was that why she married my father?

I turned and headed straight out the door. I turned towards my room only to practically collide with Antonin Dolohov.

"What are you doing, wandering the halls, Miss Riddle?" he asked gruffly, grabbing my arm and holding me in place.

"I just finished a lesson with Severus Snape, I was headed toward my room to retire for a while before my lesson with my father," I explained, a little irritated.

"Really? I think I should take you to your father now," Dolohov said.

"That won't be necessary," I replied. He ignored me, pulling me by my left arm toward the ballroom. "Really, Dolohov, please unhand me!" I stumbled but caught myself before I fell, he just pulled me along. When we came upon the ballroom he stopped, knocking loudly against the door. The door opened slightly to reveal Wormtail's mousy face, peering around to see who it was. He squeaked slightly and closed the door again. After a moment and a few muffled voices exchanged information inside, he opened it fully to let us in. Well, it was more like he opened the door to let Dolohov push me roughly in. I stumbled and shot him a glare across my shoulder.

"Dolohov," I heard my father's voice from across the room. Dolohov dragged me down the length of the room.

"My Master," he said, inclining his head. I looked in the shadows to see Draco and his father among the Death Eaters forming a circle around my father as they had in the graveyard the day he had been reborn. Draco shot me a glance.

"Arabella, come here, little one," my father motioned for me to come to him. I ripped my arm from Dolohov's grasp, sending him a look of disdain and walked over to my father, breaking through the ranks of the Death Eaters in their circle, though they did not dare move a muscle to make room for me to pass.

"My Lord, I found her lurking about the corridors," Dolohov explained.

"Lurking?" my father asked as if it were an interesting development.

"Yes, my Lord," Dolohov answered. I saw from the corner of my eye Draco look at me questioningly.

"Little one," my father addressed me, his eyes still lingering on Dolohov as he walked around the edge of the circle of his followers. "What were you doing when Dolohov ran into you this afternoon?"

"Severus dismissed me early from my lesson, so I was headed toward my room to rest a little before our lesson, Father," I said, my voice steady and completely honest for once.

"Ah, and, Dolohov, though my daughter is a guest in this house and was headed toward her quarters, you found her suspicious enough to grab and drag here?" he questioned, his voice calm, but the knowledge of his usual temper betrayed his steady calm.

"My Lord," Dolohov said, his voice trembling slightly, "I thought—"

"Ah, see, Dolohov, there is your problem," my father interrupted, raising his wand as he approached Dolohov, "I did not ask you to think..._Crucio!_" Dolohov was on the floor, writhing in pain, small grunts escaping his lips instead of the usual screams. After a few moments which stretched to feel like a lifetime, he released the curse. "Now stand, and take your place, but don't touch my daughter again." Dolohov didn't say a word, but stood and took his place, not glancing at anyone in the process.

"Arabella, you've been here once before, have you not? Though the numbers were quite diminished for so many doubted I'd return," my father said, still circling inside the ring of his followers. "We will continue this conference after my daughter's lesson, you may all leave." The Death Eaters bowed and walked through the double doors at the end of the hall. When the doors had closed, my father turned to me.

"How were your lessons today, my child?"

"Very interesting, actually," I said.

"Oh? Summarize it for me."

"I learned to waltz today. Lucius told me all about Salazar Slytherin and I successfully bounced a Legilimency curse off of myself."

"Very good, very good," a small smile spread across his face. "I do wish I had heard more about your first years at school, those first magical years when you were learning how all things magical work," he sounded regretful. "But now, we should get to your lesson."

"Father?" I interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes, my dear."

"I talked to Lucius about this, but I was wondering if you could tell me about the family history instead of Lucius doing so. And...could you tell me about my mother?" I asked timidly.

"Do you not think Lucius capable?"

"No!" I said suddenly, too quickly, "Not at all. I just, hoped that you could tell me about my family, you know, the way most parents tell their kids about their families."

"Perhaps," he said, turning towards his seat on the dais. "But today we will explore the use of Unforgivable Curses."

I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat at the thought.

"You learned what they were at school, I presume?"

"Yes, under Moody—well, Crouch acting as Moody—and then Carrow," I responded.

"And they are?"

I took a deep breath, "The Cruciatus, The Imperius, and the Killing Curse."

"Good, and you know the incantations for all?"

"Yes, but I won't say them," I said a little forcefully.

"Yes you will, Arabella," he said, "Or did you not learn your lesson about obeying my orders and living up to your surname yesterday?" I looked at my feet in response. "Do we need to do a little review?"

"No, sir."

"Then we'll start with something small," he said. I looked up at him fearfully, but stood my ground, Snape's lecture about possibly being able to help the wizarding world by gaining the trust of the Death Eaters playing again the back of my mind. I had vowed in my heart to never use an Unforgivable Curse unless it was for self defense. Would I be able to live with myself if I learned to use these curses without a second glance? "Some spiders, I think." He pulled a small jar from behind his seat, which held three medium-sized spiders in them. I breathed a small sigh of relief. It wasn't like I'd never killed a spider that had invaded a shower at the orphanage. And I could think of it as an act of community service to people like Ron who feared them most, right?

"You still have your wand from your lesson with Snape? Good. Then start with The Cruciatus, my dear."

_A/N: Thank you so so much to my readers and reviewers. Please review again, I love to hear what you think. _

_A HUGE thank you to my friend Ellie, who has been a huge support, reading my story and offering advice and ideas, especially when it came to writing about Ann Marie. _

_I don't actually know the dates for Slytherin, does anyone else?_

_And thanks to my college buddies for being "trees of no judgement" for me as well. :D_


	12. Chapter 12: The Parkinson Ball

_A/N: So I did in fact get the dates for Slytherin wrong, but I was at least close. Thank you to Hayley's Happening for the real dates: Slytherin's birth is around the 950s (953 according to .com/nik_and_blay/) and the founding of Hogwarts around the 990 (HP Lexicon says 1000 AD). Also, in reading the 5th book while working out this morning I discovered Arabella is also Mrs. Figg's first name. I actually picked the name from hearing it first in _The Prince and Me_ starring Julia Stiles. I'm reading the 5th book again...which means 5th year flashback will be coming soon!_

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't lay claim to Harry Potter, the characters or anything in the original canon by JK Rowling. Bella is my creation.

**XII. The Parkinson Ball**

A few more weeks passed in much the same fashion. I had lessons every day during the week, Monday through Thursday only, though. Draco and I would eat breakfast together and he would escort me to each of my lessons. He stopped attending the ones I took with his mother once I had all of the dances down, except Thursdays when we reviewed all of the dances. The rest of the week with his mother was spent going over the specific etiquette for different kinds of dinner parties, proper greetings for different people, proper letter-writing and even "things that young Pureblood ladies must never, under any circumstances, mention in polite company." I'd gotten permission to use the books in the Malfoy library, just not any in Lucius' private office, which only piqued my curiosity as to what could be hidden in that office. But with the use of the main library I was able to complete his ridiculous assignments. First the Slytherin essay, then one on Alfred the Great, then a Pureblood family tree (which was ridiculously difficult, long, time consuming and utterly useless. Even Blaise agreed it was just a cruel punishment, probably for me mouthing off earlier that week.) I'd gotten good enough at Occlumency that my meetings with Snape were just to continue practicing, though we had begun to review silent spells and advanced potions. Father had moved on from the Unforgivable Curses being performed on spiders to Legilimency and his own, self-created, dark curses. Three day weekends were divine. I grew more and more weary as the days passed during the week, the dark magic was taking a toll on me. I had fought with my father on more than one occasion and the experience, as well as being forced to do dark magic I didn't agree with, was draining: emotionally, mentally and physically. Weekends were spent in the library reading, strolling around the Malfoy gardens and playing Exploding Snap and Wizard's Chess with Draco.

I woke up on June 21, the first day of summer, which just happened to fall on a Sunday, to a beautiful day, sunny like the rest of June had been. I looked at the clock to find it was much later than I'd expected. It was past nine in the morning. I'd remembered my body had automatically woken me up earlier (stupid biological clock!), but I'd rolled over and gone back to sleep, expecting Draco to wake me up as he usually did. When I looked around to find the room empty, I flung the sheets off of myself and tip-toed towards the toilet, putting on my robe in the process. When I'd washed my face and brushed my hair I left my room to find my breakfast waiting for me on my table. The room, however, was still completely vacant. I heaved a sigh and headed for the tray, picking up my mug and taking a sip of my tea. There was a piece of parchment on the tray, folded over with my name on the outside.

_I let you sleep since we have a long day today. Mother will be up soon for a fitting. Be an angel._

_~Draco_

I mentally slapped myself. I'd just realized today was the day of the Parkinson Ball. I opened the balcony slider doors and pulled a chair and my breakfast out onto the nice little porch adjoining my room. It was good to breath in the summer air and get some sunshine. I'd felt cramped, being inside all weekend. Draco had been gone almost all day during the days since Thursday on Death Eater business, which made me cross in the first place, but being cooped up in the house alone had made me even crosser. I wasn't allowed outside on the grounds alone, and Draco was the only one who would take me on walks. Even if someone else would, they wouldn't've been pleasant enough to walk with for any length of time. I shuddered at the thought of a nice stroll with Wormtail, or Mr. Crabbe. Ugh.

"Arabella?" I heard my name being called from inside. I grabbed my plate and went inside to find Narcissa peaking into my room. "Oh, there you are!" she seemed relieved, opening the door further and coming in. The look on her face betrayed some fear, as if she'd actually expected me to disappear or run away. "Are you ready for a fitting? We want to make sure the last alterations on your dress are perfect, so if anything needs changing it's ready by tonight."

"Yes, of course," I said politely. Without pause, in came Madame Prideaux, followed by her assistant and house elves. Her assistant was laden down with a rather large garment bag, and the house elves were struggling to lug in a large sewing box, extra fabric, and a large shoe box.

"Bonjour!" she greeted me far too perkily. "Are you not so excited to see your dress?"

"Over-joyed," I said. I wondered if it sounded sarcastic. Harry would have laughed, Draco would've glared, but luckily Madame Prideaux just beamed as she unzipped the large garment bag and a pale pink dress with maroon accents was revealed. The dress wasn't completely put together, there were still measurements to perfect, but I was assured by Madame Prideaux that she would be available should the dress need last minute fixing. I wasn't worried, but I think the assurance made Narcissa feel better. I would've been happier if the dress had been a disaster, making it impossible for me to attend the Ball.

"Oh, Madame Prideaux, it's simply beautiful!" Narcissa gushed when the dress was pinned onto me. "What do you think, Arabella?"

"I love the color scheme; it's beautiful," I said. I couldn't really tell how much I was going to like the dress yet. A few safety pins were all that was holding it onto my body. They'd placed me in some mock-heels in order to hem the skirt and I felt a little wobbly since they were about two sizes too big.

"You're going to look simply stunning!" Narcissa said to me, and then turning to Madame Prideaux, "You are a genius!"

An hour and forty-seven minutes later (not that I was counting or anything), they departed as quickly as they'd come. Narcissa showed them out and then returned to my room, where I had placed myself in a large comfy chair by the small fireplace in my room, sipping my tea in my pajamas and robe still, reading a book.

"Arabella, dear," she said tentatively, I looked up from my book. "After lunch someone will be coming to do your hair and nails. I want you showered before then and afterwards we'll do a light dinner and get you in your dress."

"I can do my own hair and nails," I said. I liked having control over how I looked.

"Oh no dear, that's out of the question," she said. I looked down at my hands, did my nails really look that bad, or was it just a tradition that high class Purebloods didn't do their own hair and nails on the day of a high class Pureblood party? I opened my mouth to question her, but thought better of it.

"Where's Draco?" I asked instead.

"Oh," Narcissa said, frowning a little, "He's out on business today. But don't worry he'll be back in time for the Ball." She lowered her voice suddenly as if she were muttering to herself, worriedly, "He has to be, he's her escort."

"My escort?"

"Yes, dear, your date," she said, looking up from her thoughts.

"But he never asked me," I pointed out.

"It's implied, dear, since you are our guest and you two are going to be..." the bitter expression on my face must have made her trail off. She huffed a little, wringing her hands and then spoke again, "Well, I'll let you shower and get out of your night clothes," she said, excusing herself from the room. "Be downstairs in an hour and a half please. Don't dry your hair or put any make up on." And with that she was out the door.

Instead of heading to the shower I sat in my chair reading for a while longer, my own personal version of a small rebellion. I wasn't in any hurry to be glued to a chair all afternoon with some stranger pulling on my hair or making my fingers bleed. I finally headed to the shower a half hour later, washing my hair thoroughly and shaving in the process. After drying off and putting on a thoroughly Muggle-esque outfit of sweatpants and a baggy Gryffindor T-shirt, I wandered out to find a tray of lunch waiting for me. I wasn't hungry since I'd eaten breakfast so late, so just grabbed my mug and headed downstairs. When I got downstairs I heard voices from the opposite end of the hall from Narcissa's parlor. Following the voices I entered a much bigger room, which had been cleared of all furniture save a few comfy looking swivel chairs and a large vanity. I looked on in horror as I realized all of the magical beauty products lining the shelves of the vanity could be for me.

"Oh, there you are!" Narcissa said, guiding me over to the chair. She sat me down and turned me away from the mirror. "I thought since it's your first big Pureblood Ball we'd go all-out," she said. As soon as I was seated, a nice looking young man stepped forward, introducing himself as Alfonso before he grabbed his wand and a very large comb and set to work.

I sat in that chair all afternoon. After Alfonso came Leilani, who did wonders for my nails, giving me a manicure and pedicure, painting my nails a light pink to match the color of my dress and carefully designing my fingernails with small glittering, maroon flowers to match the accents on the dress as well. Lastly was Liesl, who spent time on my makeup, then showed Narcissa how to do my lip color since I hadn't eaten dinner yet. It wasn't as miserable as I'd expected. Narcissa handed me Witch Weekly early in the day to keep me occupied. I hadn't read a gossip mag in so long that it was thoroughly enjoyable to just not think about what I was reading and take joy in living vicariously through celebrities.

I was finished getting dolled-up by dinner time. When everyone was done I was finally allowed to look in the mirror. My hair had been intricately twisted into a tight bun at the crown of my head. Small silver jewels had been placed in the tufts of hair that made up the bun and a maroon ribbon had been braided through a strand of hair that wound around the bun, framing it nicely. My makeup was simple but elegant, highlighting my eyes and adding color to my cheeks. I was ushered upstairs and ate dinner alone in my room, still wondering where Draco had been all day. After eating excruciatingly slow, just to waste the extra time I had to wait around before Narcissa came up with my dress, I sat and read. Narcissa knocked on the door about 6:45pm, carrying the same gown bag that had been lugged in that same morning.

"Ready?" She asked excitedly. I didn't expect her to be so giddy. She herself had been done up. Soft curls cascaded down from a bun fastened with a silver clasp. She wore a deep blue gown with three-quarter length sleeves that gave way to corset-like waste that expanded into a bustled skirt.

"You look lovely, Narcissa," I said quite honestly.

"Oh, thank you my dear," she looked taken aback by my compliment. "Let's get you into your dress." I nodded and took the bag into the walk-in closet. When I'd pulled the fabric over my head, I held the dress on my frame, walking out so that Narcissa could zip it and fasten the buttons in the back. When she was done, I turned around and a large smile spread across her features. She handed me a pair of open-toed heels, with small maroon bows across the toes, "Go look in the mirror." I did as I was told after sitting down to put the shoes on. The dress was really exquisite. It had thick tank-top like straps that went down into a V-neckline. The gown moved closely down my waist and then flared out, making a large skirt that was made out of one large piece of material. The light pink color was accented with maroon beading on the bodice,and hem.

"Thank you very much for the beautiful gown, Narcissa," I said, turning back to the woman.

"Oh, no. Thank your father," she said. "I just found the stylist."

"It's magnificent," I breathed. I hadn't worn anything so beautiful in my life, and this was for a simple ball.

"The final touches," she said, indicating a jewelry box on the table. "They were my mother's, and I thought they'd look beautiful with your dress." I opened the box to find a simple necklace with jeweled flowers and matching earrings that matched the color of the accents on my dress. "Let me help you fasten those," Narcissa took the box from my hands.

"I couldn't," I said to Narcissa about wearing the jewels, feeling as if I was intruding on a family secret.

"Of course you can," she said, "they don't get enough use. It's the perfect occasion." She stepped behind me and put them on.

There was a knock on the door, Narcissa called out an admittance of entrance. Lucius strode in, long blond hair flowing down past his shoulders, dress robes immaculate, a black cloak over his shoulders, walking stick in hand. He stopped in his tracks when he saw us. "You both look ravishing," he said. "Those suit her well," he said to Narcissa, indicating her mother's jewelry.

"Don't they?" she smiled.

"Shall we?" he indicated the door. "Your cloaks are downstairs waiting, though you shall hardly need them, it's a beautiful night."

I followed Narcissa out the door and Lucius closed the door behind us. I had neither a wand nor a purse and felt strangely empty-handed. When we came to the grand staircase that led to the main entrance hall and ultimately the front door, I saw my father, Draco and several other Death Eaters, some in dress robes, others not, waiting in the entrance hall. Narcissa nudged me forward so I had to walk down the stairs first. I wondered if this was how most girls walked down the stairs to their dates for prom. As I paused at the top of the stairs to place my hand on the railing and lift my skirts so I wouldn't trip, all heads turned to look at me. This is what it must have felt like for Hermione when everyone stared at her coming down the staircase the night of the Yule Ball: completely unnerving but slightly exhilarating. When I reached the end of the stairs, Draco, dressed in his traditional dress robes, took my hand and brushed a kiss over the top of it. "You look incredibly beautiful," he said. He'd gotten his hair cut. It no longer hung in his eyes, but was swept to the side to let his grey eyes stand out.

"Yes, my child. You look beautiful. Just like your mother," my father approached me, putting his thin, cold hands on my upper arms and kissing my forehead like he always did. When he released me, I shrugged the summer cloak Draco held out for me, a light, see-through, pearl-colored cloak that was warmer than it looked. "I expect those of you staying here as well as those attending the Ball to keep an eye out. The Order knows it is the annual Ball, I'm sure, and may try to pull some sort of stunt tonight since not everyone will be in one place," my father addressed everyone in the hall, now.

"Wait, is my father going?" I whispered under my breath to Draco.

"Yes. It is the Parkinsons after all," he whispered in my ear from behind me. "Your father has control of part of the Ministry, so any officials who are there are sure to be followers. He would not miss this social event, not that he's back in control."

"Dolohov, what are you doing in your dress robes?" The Dark Lord addressed the Death Eater darkly, "You are to remain here." Turning back to the rest of the crowd as Dolohov left the room as inconspicuously as possible (which wasn't very), he continued, "You all have your instructions. You know my expectations and your duties." He led the way toward the front door, followed by the Malfoys, and then Draco and I. The rest of the Death Eaters fell in line. When we got outside I was surprised to see old-fashioned carriages awaiting us, just like at Hogwarts.

"We're going by carriage?" I asked Malfoy under my breath.

"Yes. Tradition," he stated simply. We were put into the second carriage with Bellatrix and Rodolphus, much to my displeasure. I was unable to ask any further questions of Draco at that point. We sat in silence as we rattled along towards the Parkinson's. I felt Bellatrix's eyes on me the whole way there. I didn't have the courage to look up and see if it was a glare or just an indifferent look of displeasure. She'd not quite gotten over the fact that now I was the Dark Lord's favorite (being his daughter and all...) and she wasn't allowed anywhere near me alone since she'd almost killed me in the Department of Ministries during Fifth Year.

When we arrived Draco helped me from the carriage and we stepped into a line to be greeted by the Parkinson's at the door of the ballroom before entering. While in line, I seized the opportunity to question Draco.

"So what did Father mean by 'you have your instructions' and 'you know your duties'?" I said, my voice low so only he could hear.

"He meant that everyone who is coming tonight knows what to do in the event of an emergency."

"Emergency? Like...?"

"Like someone tries to kidnap you. Someone sends a curse flying out onto the dance floor."

"And your instructions are?"

"The Death Eaters are to keep a vigilant eye, know who everyone is in the room, and have three people within five meters of you at all time. I, personally, am to have my eye on you or be within arm's length of you. Should anything unexpected happen, I apparate out of here with you to an undisclosed location only I and the Dark Lord know of."

I laughed. Draco looked at me, taken aback and slightly offended.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to stop a smile from continuing to shine on my face, "but don't you think that's a little overkill?"

"No."

And that was the end of that as we approached the door to the ballroom. I swallowed the laugh that had bubbled up, embarrassed but not knowing why. Some house elves were stationed to take our cloaks, and Draco helped me shrug out of mine before draping it over the arms of a house elf. I shook my head as I thought of what Hermione would say about S.P.E.W.

"Miss Riddle, Mr. Malfoy, so good to have you here," Mrs. Parkinson called as Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy entered the ballroom.

"You look exquisite, Miss Riddle," said Mr. Parkinson, shaking my hand.

"Thank you sir," I replied with a smile.

"Hello Drake...Draco," Pansy swallowed her nickname for him with one dirty look from the blond boy standing beside me. "Arabella," she nodded my way.

"Good evening, Pansy," I smiled warmly, "I simply adore your dress," I tried to sound like a gushy girl.

"Thank you," she looked stunned at my compliment, as if I'd slapped her across the face. _Kill with kindness_, I remembered. Her father cleared his throat and she caught herself, "You look wonderful this evening as well."

"Thank you," I said. "Your home is lovely, Mrs. Parkinson," I stated just as Narcissa had suggested. The woman smiled, her eyes twinkling slightly with pleasure. She said a thank you as Draco pulled me into the room. I looked around the large room, decorated with flowers and twinkling lights. At one end of the hall was a live band, at the other end a table of food and drinks. I found my father had positioned himself on one side of the room near the fireplace that was flickering without giving off heat, Lucius was standing with Narcissa diagonally across from him on the other side. As the other Death Eaters who had accompanied us, Nott, Avery, Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, the Lestranges and the Carrows, as well as their respective partners and families, I noticed them spread out across the room, each one looking around to secure the room. I shuddered a little at the thought.

"Are you cold? I can go retrieve your cloak," Draco asked.

"No, no," I said, "I'm fine." He gave me a look. I smiled, "I'm just a little uneasy at the thought of all the Death Eaters securing the room and watch us closely."

"You'll get used to it. They're here to keep you safe more than they are here because it is the annual Parkinson Ball."

Somehow that didn't make me feel better. Draco took my hand in his. I pulled away.

"Be good," he said, holding my hand tighter. I opened my mouth to protest but he interrupted me before I could, "Shall we dance?"

"Do I have a choice?" I asked.

"No," he replied.

"Ah, yes, didn't think so," I said as he led me to the dance floor. Couples already littered the dance floor, but we found a spot and danced a foxtrot.

"Try to smile," Draco whispered to me halfway through the dance.

"Why?"

"Appearances," he said. I raised my eyebrows. "You are supposed to be enjoying yourself, dancing in my arms."

"But I'd rather be home reading a book alone," I pointed out.

"Just do what I tell you tonight, okay?" he said, slightly irritated.

"What do you mean?" I asked as the dance came to an end and we clapped for the band. He led me toward the punch bowl.

"I mean, if I tell you to smile, you smile. If I tell you to dance with me, you dance with me. If I tell you to kiss me, you kiss me..."

"If you tell me to jump of a bridge, I jump off a bridge," I implied angrily. He looked at me significantly.

"Do what I say and we'll make it out of here alive, intact and without any lectures from our parents," he said bluntly, putting some punch in a cup and handing it to me.

"Self-preservation, much?"

"Precisely."

"Fine," I agreed begrudgingly, "But only on one condition." He raised his eyebrows, surprised but intrigued, "You don't leave me alone to get interrogated by anyone or eaten alive by the sharks we call women." He laughed, a rare smile lighting up his face.

"Deal," he said, sipping from his cup.

"Draco, Arabella," a voice interrupted our conversation, "You both look smashing this evening."

"Blaise," Draco said, holding out his hand for Blaise to shake, "good to see you."

"You look handsome as well, Blaise," I commented.

"Don't I ever?" he said, doing a small spin on the spot and then opening his arms for us to survey. I laughed lightly. He lowered his voice suddenly, leaning in towards us so only we could hear, "How are you holding up with this motley crew, here, Bella?" he indicated the other people in the room.

"Fine as of yet, but I don't expect it to last much longer," I confessed. He chuckled.

"Yes, well, you're tougher than you look; you'll be fine," he said passingly. I smiled at him in thanks for the compliment. "Well, I should go ask Pansy for a dance, save her from the obligation of dancing with poor Mr. Crabbe," he said, giving us a nod and then walking off.

"Shall we?" Draco asked, indicating the dance floor.

"Cause I really have a choice," I stated sarcastically.

We danced a couple more songs and then chatted with some of the other guests. I was suddenly quite thankful for the lessons I'd taken with Narcissa. She'd been very good at preparing me for the small talk that ensued at these events. I even found some of her advice getting me through the underhandedness of the young Pureblood ladies my age who wanted Draco to themselves. As far as I was concerned, they could have him, but I couldn't exactly say that. Halfway through the evening, Mr. Parkinson stood up for a toast, to the summer, to his guests, and to a "new beginning," which I'm sure alluded to my father in some way, I just wasn't quite sure exactly how. I danced a number with Blaise and one with Theodore Nott. Blaise made me smile and laugh so much at one point during the dance that I thought I was going to lose it. Afterwards, Draco cut in, not allowing a reprieve for me before the next dance, a waltz.

"You shouldn't act that way around him," he said, taking me into his arms rather forcefully.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like you're in love with him."

I snorted with laughter, "He makes me laugh, that's all. He's a great guy," I asserted, while Draco led me into a spin we'd practiced countless times in Narcissa's parlor.

"Well, it looked to everyone in the room like you're in love with him. It was completely inappropriate."

"I think you're exaggerating, Draco," I said, still smiling lightly, amused at his jealous behavior.

"I don't think I am, Arabella. Your father has been watching you closely. Remember what's expected of you."

"Oh, screw expectations. I'm sick of it," I matched his serious tone.

"Well you don't really have a choice," he pointed out.

"Well, I should. And we were just enjoying ourselves. Is that a crime?"

"In Pureblood culture it might as well be," he deadpanned. I started to laugh, but his face remained stoic. My face fell as I realized it wasn't a joke. I looked away from the intensity of his eyes, uncomfortable. Unfortunately when I did, I caught my father's eyes. He had that look on his face that told me I was in trouble, his wand was in his hand. Great, I thought to myself, I can't even have a little fun without getting in trouble with these people.

"At the end of this song, we'll kiss," Draco instructed.

"Um, I object," I said.

"You can't. Remember what I said, 'If I tell you to kiss me...'"

"I kiss you." I finished for him. "Yeah, yeah, but I'm not actually going to let you make me do anything with you. I don't have to."

"Yes you do," he stated, spinning me around the dance floor still. "You are my girl, and now you have to prove it to everyone in the room who is now doubting it. Plus, you don't particularly want to face your father 's wrath if you don't redeem yourself when we get home. You'll be much too tired."

I didn't reply. I could feel the dance coming to an end, but my mind was racing trying to find a way out of the whole kiss ordeal. When the song came to a cadence, I pulled away, headed in the direction of the punch bowl again, but Draco's hold on my left hand was tight. He pulled me back towards him and pulled my body flush against his. He looked me in the eyes, his own blue ones gleaming a little, "Be an angel," he breathed and then he captured my lips with his.

_A/N: According to research, a huge hailstorm hit Shetland and a thunderstorm hit north Scotland on Sunday June 21, 1998, but there's no info for London. June was an unusually sunny month that year, according to my sources. Research is fun! I made the Zabini's Voldy supporters, just for the sake of playing up a Blaise-Bella friendship. _


	13. Chapter 13: Stupid, stupid, stupid

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter!

**XIII._ Stupid, Stupid, Stupid_**

I reared back, winding my arm up to slap him across the face, but his hand held mine as tightly as ever. I looked into his eyes, trying to burn a hole through his skull with my fury, realizing all eyes in the ballroom were on us still. He brushed his lips across the back of the same hand I'd attempted to slap him with. He smirked in triumph and I continued to glare, grinding my teeth in anger.

"How dare y—"

"Shall we go out on the terrace for some fresh air?" he suggested calmly. I let him lead me out of the room, not even bothering to fake a smile. I saw the reflection of my father in a mirror. He was still standing by the fireplace, wand in hand, only he was smiling now, as if he were delighted and slightly amused.

Once we reached the terrace, I ripped my hand from Draco's. He turned to look at me, mouth open as if to speak, but I slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

"How dare you!" I said scathingly, sending him a searing look as his hand rubbed his cheek in response to the sting of my slap.

"How dare I what?" he asked smoothly

"How dare you kiss me!"

"How dare you slap me," he said bitterly.

"You deserved it after what you did," I responded, hotly.

"After what I did...," he said slowly.

"After you kissed me in front of an entire room of people!" I said exasperated, "Against my will!"

"I didn't get slapped for that time I kissed you in Sixth Year," he pointed out.

"Well, you would've been beaten to a pulp if I'd not been taken by surprise, pulled into a dark classroom and scared out of my bloody wits!" He evidently had nothing to say to this, but I thought I saw him chuckling behind the hand that was now covering his mouth. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and trying to calm down. When I opened my mouth to speak again, my voice was calm and even: "You're delusions that we have a relationship need to end, Draco."

"Your delusions that we don't have a relationship need to end, love," he responded.

"What—"

"It's not too long before your father will want us engaged, or at the very least showing our couple-ship at the summer parties," he continued as if I'd not tried to speak.

"Soon this war will be over and I can go home," I said hotly.

"And what happens when your father wins this war?" Draco asked.

"_If_ he wins the war?" I corrected, "Well, I—"

"You'll be here, marrying me," he finished. "Hadn't thought of that, had you? You'll be next in line for the Dark Lord's reign, being his daughter and all. You'll be the poster girl for his new empire: his beautiful, dutiful daughter, and I'll be your handsome husband. There's a reason he wants this match, Arabella, and the lessons," he raised his eyebrows to see if I'd caught on.

"He's priming me to be the next Dark Lord," I realized suddenly. I mentally slapped myself. I'd been under the impression that one of his Death Eaters would take over if he ever decided to die, which I'd thought was highly unlikely. But he was going to make me his "press secretary" while he was alive and in charge and then his successor if or when he died.

"Well, Dark Lady, won't it be?" he teased, pulling me back from my thoughts, "I'll be the next Dark Lord."

"I just want to go home," I found myself saying.

"And where is that?" Draco asked, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I don't know, with friends, with family, not here," I said, moving toward the railing of the balcony.

"This is your home. We're your friends," Draco indicated the people in the room, "We're your family."

"No," I said, shaking my head, and then looking back at Draco, "My family is Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, even Neville and Luna. People who love me no matter what. People who would never force a life I didn't want upon me." Tears began to course down my cheeks before I even realized I was upset. Draco's stern demeanor changed, his hardened features softening as he saw my wet face. He moved towards me, his arms open. "I want to go home," I sobbed.

He wrapped me in his arms, kissing the top of my head and whispering, "I know, love, I know."

I didn't bother to point out that he had no idea how I felt, and I didn't have the energy to push him away. I just cried for a short time, letting his strong arms hold me tight. A slight breeze picked up, cooling the sweat on my neck and arms that dancing had produced, making me shiver. Draco ran his hands against my back and arms, trying to warm me up as I swallowed the last tears and wiped my eyes.

"Arabella? Draco? You're missed," I heard a voice come from behind me, but I didn't turn to look, still trying to repair the damage done by the tears.

"We'll be right there, Mr. Nott," Draco said, looking back over his shoulder, but still standing so I was protected from sight. I heard Nott's footsteps lead back into the ballroom. Draco looked down into my face.

"I probably look like a train wreck," I said, wiping underneath my eyes to check for mascara, trying to say something so we didn't continue on the touchy subject of a moment before.

"You look as beautiful as ever," Draco smiled at me.

"Yeah, sure."

"I'm not sure what Muggle makeup is like, but I'm sure Mother had the best cry-proof, fight-proof, smudge-proof Magical makeup put on you tonight," he said. I stopped wiping my face, feeling silly for not expecting that of Narcissa. She thought of everything. I looked up as Draco took my hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. He gave me a nod and a smile and led me toward the double doors leading to the ballroom.

"You won't talk of this with my father?" I stopped to ask just before we entered again.

"Speak of what?" he said in mock-ignorance.

"Thank you," I whispered, adjusting a reasonable smile on my face and walking in on the arm of one of the most coveted young men in the room. _I should feel lucky_, I thought to myself, _Every other girl in the room would kill to be in my spot._ I almost laughed out loud at myself. _Literally kill._

We arrived home late that night, or rather early the next morning, after dancing until almost three in the morning. My feet were sore and blistered, and I took off my heels and simply skipped on my toes up the steps of the Malfoy manor and inside, holding my shoes in one hand. Trinky was waiting with my mug full of sweet peppermint tea, and I thankfully took it and headed for the stairs up to my room.

"I'll be up in a minute," Draco whispered in my ear as he stopped me and took my cloak from my shoulders before I was able to get too far.

"Don't bother," I mumbled, but he didn't hear. I walked slowly up to my room, swinging the arm holding my shoes and sipping my tea as I went. I sank into my favorite chair by the fireplace in my room, staring into the fire for a little while. I looked around my room for a moment, thinking about how unlike it was from the room I shared with Hermione at Number 4 Grimmauld Place. This room was at least twice the size. The queen size, four-poster bed was done in the Tudor style with dark cherry wood and stood with the headboard against the wall opposite the fireplace. The drapes of the bed were a deep purple with black and silver embroidery. The dark wood of the wardrobe, bedside table and breakfast table matched the perfect hardwood floor that was accented with an intricately designed Persian rug. These features and the dark curtains made the room seem dim and menacing in comparison with the warmth of the Gryffindor rooms that I was so accustomed to at school. Even the small room at the headquarters for the Order, which was so crammed with two small single beds, a wardrobe, a dresser, a bedside table and a small mirror that there was hardly enough room to navigate around to the far side of the bed near the window, seemed more comforting and cheery to me than this mini-apartment that constituted my prison here at the Malfoy Manor.

There was a knock on the door, but I was too lost in thought about how much I missed the rooms Hermione and I had shared in the various locations we'd stayed at over the years that I didn't realize that Draco had tentatively opened the door to peer in and then, seeing me by the fire, crept to stand behind me until his hands were on my shoulders. I nearly jumped in surprise at his touch, but let out a sigh of relief when I realized it was just him. His thumbs easily found a knot in my shoulders to knead.

"You're tense," he said quietly.

"Yeah, well, it's been a rough couple of weeks," I commented.

"Relax," he said, massaging my neck, "You are tensing up even more."

"Yeah, well, I'm not used to getting neck massages," I said, trying to pull away from him.

"It's supposed to be pleasurable and relaxing," he stated, pushing me back in the chair and taking my mug from me, placing it on the small table in front of my chair, "So just sit down, close your eyes and relax."

I crossed my arms in a huff, closing my eyes as he commanded. After a while I let my arms drop to my sides. He was causing small amounts of pain in kneading the tense muscles in my neck and shoulders, but it did feel good.

"See, is it so hard to relax?" he asked after a little while.

I opened my eyes, thought for a moment and replied without emotion in my voice, "Yes." He let out a short laugh, but didn't say anything else. "It's time for me to get to bed," I said, standing up, walking toward the walk-in closet to change. I realized as I was shutting the door to the closet that there was no way for me to escape my dress alone. The zippers and buttons would be too much for me. I would have to ask Draco for help. I thought about calling Trinky, but I didn't want to wake her if she was asleep. I stepped back out of the closet.

"Problem?" he asked. I rolled my eyes. This was a plan devised by some cruel person, probably my father or Narcissa, to put me in a position where I'd have to ask Draco to help me. Not just help me, but unzip the back of my dress.

"Help?" I said simply, indicating my dress.

"Pardon?" I could tell he was going to milk this for all it was worth.

"Would you help me with my dress? Unzip the back about half-way so I can reach it and get out myself?" I said specifically.

"Oh, of course I will," he said, all gentleman-like. I turned around and rolled my eyes again. One of these days my eyes would roll so far into the back of my head they'd be lost forever. I held up the front of the dress with my arms while he took his time unbuttoning the top buttons. He then unzipped the back ever so slowly. After he'd gotten half-way I stepped out of his reach to run towards the closet. I slammed the door behind me, reaching behind me to pull the zipper down the rest of the way. I stepped out of the elegant dress and hung it up with my other dress robes. I grabbed my pajamas and slipped them on. The cool fabric felt good against my skin, and I relaxed into the feeling of the baggy clothes surrounding me, exhaustion suddenly taking over. I stumbled out into the room. Draco was still standing there, a smirk on his face.

"Can I help you?" I asked rudely as I headed to the sink to wash my face and brush my teeth. I scrubbed my face, but after toweling it dry I realized the makeup was still completely intact. I cursed under my breath. Looking up, I saw Draco leaning lazily against the door frame to the bathroom, arms crossed, an unmistakably pompous twinkle in his eye.

"No, but can_ I_ help _you_?"

I growled under my breath, but turned to him, one hand on my hip. "You know how to get this off," I said pointing to my face, "don't you?"

He just nodded.

"Can I have my wand?" I asked, "I think I could manage with that."

He just shook his head.

"So I have to ask you to do it?"

He nodded again. But didn't do anything.

"Well?" I asked when he didn't get on with it.

"Well, what?" he asked.

"Will you just do it, then?"

"Pardon?" he asked, sweetly.

"Don't mess with me, Draco. I'm so not in the mood."

"You could ask nicely, Arabella," he suggested.

"You could be on the floor with a bloody nose, Draco," I mimicked his sweet voice mockingly.

"Now, now, who has the wand, love?"

He had a point. I screwed up my face in frustration before swallowing what was left of my pride and putting on a sweet smile.

"Draco dearest, would you please be so kind as to remove my makeup for me, since I do not have the privilege of having a wand to do it myself?"

"Why yes, Arabella, love, I would be more than happy to do that for you," he responded, taking his wand out of his robes. With a wave the makeup was gone.

"Thank you," I said, my sweet countenance already gone.

"Was it really so hard to ask politely?"

"Would it have been so hard to just do it in the first place since you knew that I would need help?" I asked in response. "Or did you really need to torture me?"

"Maybe if you didn't treat me like I had the plague, I'd be more inclined to help you out rather than try to teach a lesson every time you misbehave, since you obviously don't understand that sooner of later you have to drop the attitude," he responded, slightly bitter.

"Maybe if I wasn't forced to pretend to like you, you wouldn't appear to have the plague," I retorted, my voice angry.

"Maybe if you stopped being a stuck-up Potter-lover for two seconds you'd realize I'm not that bad," he stepped toward me, raising his voice in anger.

"Maybe if you'd not tormented me and my friends for years at school I'd think a little differently," I responded, taking a step toward him, matching his aggression. "Or maybe if you weren't a Death Eater I wouldn't despise you with all of my heart and soul." We were almost nose to nose, but at this his countenance drooped slightly. He broke eye contact, looking down, something he would never do in a normal encounter with someone he was fighting with. Suddenly what I'd just said hit me and my breath hitched. I suddenly felt so ashamed of my behavior. I knew I hadn't meant it. I was just tired and angry and defensive because of the kiss earlier. "Draco, I—"

He interrupted my soft start to an apology by putting up a hand to stop me. With that he turned on his heel and left. I dug my fingers into my eyes and rubbed them with frustration and anguish. I couldn't believe myself. Had I really said such a hurtful thing out loud? Sure, I'd think things like that, but I'd never say it to someone's face. Why would I say something like that to him? I mentally admonished myself as I climbed into my bed. He was so hurt he wouldn't even let me apologize. Draco had been the only person in this house who I could stand being around, and now he probably hated me. We'd built up a kind of friendship. A cold friendship, but a friendship nonetheless. Now I hurt the only person in the entire house who was nice to me for reasons other than sheer obligation to the Dark Lord. I sure had a way of screwing things up. The only glimmer of hope in this was that maybe he would refuse to marry me, and then I'd be free. But the likelihood of him going through with it for obligation was high. Meaning it would be a completely loveless, hate-filled marriage. Even worse. I hit my head against the wooden headboard in frustration. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I reprimanded myself, before pulling the covers up and rolling over to try and sleep.

Needless to say I didn't sleep well that night. I tossed and turned with worry, waking in the early hours of the morning, waiting for Draco to come in and wake me for lessons. I finally got up at 7:30, deciding that it was a waste of my time to sleep restlessly. I pulled on my robe and crept downstairs, knowing my breakfast tray wouldn't come for hours later. Narcissa had cancelled our morning lesson because we'd gotten in so late. She said I could sleep all morning and wake up for lunch and my afternoon lessons. I tiptoed barefoot down the stairs towards the breakfast room, pausing outside when I heard voices.

"She needs a break, my Lord," came a voice, I recognized it immediately as Draco's.

"You're suggesting she should take a break from lessons today?" came my father's reply.

"Today, yes. Tomorrow as well if you will allow it," Draco continued. "She's exhausted. She's not sleeping well. She's become more agitated and easily frustrated. She needs to get out of this house and do something other than study and read," Draco said.

"Yes," my father said after a long pause, "That sounds acceptable. Perhaps she's been worked too hard. A couple days without lessons won't hurt her."

"Thank you, my Lord," came Draco's voice.

"I believe we've been overheard," came my father's voice, a little louder. I cursed under my breath, realizing he knew I was listening from outside the door. I was obviously losing my edge, I'd not been caught eavesdropping before. As a member of the Golden Quartet I'd become an expert at it. I was either as exhausted as Draco proclaimed or just vastly out of practice. "Arabella?" he called.

I opened the door slowly, peering in sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Father, I was just coming down for some tea, and I didn't want to interrupt."

"No harm done this time, my child. Draco was just indicating that perhaps you need a break for a couple days, what do you think?"

I looked at Draco, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. His facial expression was devoid of emotion and his posture was rigid and as proud as at school. "I would like that very much, Father."

"It's settled. Draco, you will take her to Diagon Alley today. Get her out of the house. I'll arrange a guard to go with you."

"Yes, my Lord," Draco bowed, and then excused himself. Before he left, I caught his arm.

"Draco...," I started softly.

"I have business to attend to right now," he stated, pulling his arm from mine. "Have Trinky find me when you are ready to leave." And with that he was out the door. I looked at my feet, feeling strangely empty before remembering my father was still in the room.

"Something wrong, little one?" My father asked.

"No," I lied, not even trying to hide it, knowing full well he would know I was lying.

"You're lying, but I know it's not my business, so I'll let it go this once," he said. I nodded in thanks, pulling out a chair at the dining table and plopping down in a manner completely devoid of grace.

My father stood from where was sitting. "I'll be in the ballroom if you need something, my dear," he put his hand on my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. "The guard will be ready by eight for you to leave at your leisure. Have fun in town, be good, don't spend too much," he squeezed my shoulder. It felt like a conversation a father would have with his daughter, a normal family occurrence. But my family life was anything but normal. He stopped when he reached the door frame. "Don't fret. It will be fine," he said, very simply, considering the long-winded lectures he usually gave me. "Just be good. You know how." And with that I was alone in the large dining room, exhausted, miserable, and just wanting to crawl into a hole. Before I could even think to call Trinky my purple mug appeared full of steaming liquid. I looked into the dark liquid. I could feel the deep frown etched in my face as I watched a tear drop fall gracefully to mix with the liquid, sending small ripples out from its entrance point.

_A/N: Here's the chapter. A little shorter than the past few. I wanted to make sure it got posted tonight and I spent the afternoon driving across the state of Minnesota, so I didn't get as much time to write as I'd hoped. I'll try and get another up by the end of the weekend. I ran into some writer's block on this one, so let me know how it turned out. So sorry if it's a dud. Thanks for all of the reviews, they really do make me smile and inspire me to keep writing. _


	14. Chapter 14: Flashback, 5th Year

_A/N: This is a 14 page chapter. So I'm sorry if you don't like length. I've been dying to write the Department of Mysteries Flashback for so long, I might have gotten a little carried away. PLEASE REVIEW! Thanks to all of those who have done so, it makes me so so so so happy._

_READ THE DISCLAIMER PLEASE!_

_**Disclaimer:**_ I DO NOT own Harry Potter. It's JK Rowling's. Also, much of the content of this chapter is taken and modified from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix pages 741-800 (American Version).

**XIV. Flashback—Fifth Year**

T

The nervous tapping of Hermione's foot was making me anxious. I could hear it from just outside Umbridge's office, where I was standing keeping watch. I looked down the hall, first to the left and then to the right. All looked clear on both ends. Ginny and Luna had successfully kept all of the other students from heading down this hall with the Garroting Gas story.

"Hermione, tapping your foot won't make Harry go faster," I said turning around to talk to her through the door of Umbridge's office.

"It just doesn't make sense!" she said, exasperated. "Neither Sirius nor Voldemort could get into the Ministry of Magic without being seen. And Sirius wouldn't dare leave Headquarters!"

"Well, he might dare, and I totally agree that it doesn't quite make sense, but Harry believes what he saw was real. Sirius is his only family, we have to understand how upsetting this is for him," I reasoned.

"I know, but it wouldn't be so far-fetched to expect it to be Voldemort manipulating the situation."

"No it wouldn't. My father has a knack for being exceedingly wonderful at manipulating situations to—" I felt someone grab the back of my robes as Hermione's eyes widened with fear.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" I heard Draco say angrily. He pulled me gruffly to the side, taking my wand from my hand as Millicent Bulstrode cornered Hermione.

"Got them!" Draco called down the hall.

"Well done, Mr. Malfoy!" I heard the sweet, girlish voice I came to dread: Dolores Umbridge.

She strode in and yanked Harry unceremoniously from the fire where he'd been (hopefully) talking with Sirius.

"You think," she whispered, holding Harry by the hair and bending him backwards by the neck, "that after two nifflers I was going to let one more foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensoring Spells placed all around my doorway after the last one got in, you foolish boy. Take his wand," she barked, and Draco lunged forward to seize the moment, still holding my arm in his hand. There was another scuffle as Bulstrode wrested Hermione's wand from her as well.

"I want to know why you are in my office," said Umbridge, shaking the fist clutching Harry's hair so that he staggered.

"I was—trying to get my Firebolt!" Harry croaked.

"Liar." She shook his head again. "Your Firebolt is under strict guard in the dungeons, as you very well know, Potter. You had your head in my fire. With whom have you been communicating?"

"No one—" said Harry, trying to pull away from her.

"_Liar!_" shouted Umbridge. She threw him from her, and he slammed into the desk. I made a slight sound of disapproval at her treatment of Harry and Umbridge turned on me. "And you! Lucius Malfoy will be _very_ upset to hear you were running around consorting with people like _this!_" She waved her arm, indicating Harry and Hermione. "He indicated to me last summer that you would be someone to be trusted, like Draco, here. But I can see you will need to be _dealt with _as well."

There was a commotion outside and several large Slytherins entered, each gripping Ron, Ginny, Luna and—to my surprise, as well as Harry's and Hermione's judging by their expressions—Neville, who was trapped in a stranglehold by Crabbe and looked in imminent danger of suffocation. All four of them had been gagged.

"Got 'em all," said Warrington, shoving Ron roughly forward into the room. "_That _one," he poked a thick finger at Neville, "tried to stop me taking _her_," he pointed at Ginny, who was trying to kick the shins of the large Slytherin girl holding her, "so I brought him along too."

"Good, good," said Umbridge, watching Ginny's struggles. "Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?"

Malfoy laughed loudly and sycophantically, and I elbowed him in the stomach in anger. He doubled over slightly in pain. In retaliation he pulled me closer against his body, holding me with both his hands on my upper arms, my back against his chest, my wand and Harry's still clutched in his left hand, his own wand in his right.

"So Potter," Umbridge began, her wide, complacent smile spreading across her face as she settled into a chintz-covered armchair, "You stationed lookouts around my office and you sent this buffoon," she nodded at Ron, "to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that hew as busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes, Mr. Filch having just informed me so.

"Clearly it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone..."

Malfoy and some of the other members of the Inquisitorial Squad laughed as Harry began shaking in anger and hatred. I tried to step forward but Malfoy's grasp was too tight.

"It's none of your business who I talk to," Harry snarled.

Umbridge's slack face seemed to tighten.

"Very well," she said in her most dangerous and falsely sweet voice. "Very well, Mr. Potter...I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco—fetch Professor Snape."

Malfoy released me into Blaise Zabini's grasp, stowing our wands inside his robes. He left the room smirking, but I could have sworn I heard him mutter something that sounded like "no funny business with her" at Blaise on his way out. Zabini grabbed my arm forcefully as I looked at Harry. His eyes widened in realization, and I felt a weight fall into the pit of my stomach. Snape. How had we all forgotten Snape was a member of the Order? The only one left at Hogwarts. Why hadn't we gone to him with the news of Sirius? I looked around the room. Hermione was trying to free herself from Bulstrode's grasp, and Neville was turning an unnerving shade of blue as he tugged in vain at Grabbe's arms. Luna stood limply by the side of her captor, gazing vaguely out of the window as though she were bored. Soon enough, footsteps could be heard approaching as Draco Malfoy reentered the room, followed closely by Snape.

"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" said Snape, looking around at all the pairs of struggling students with an expression of complete indifference.

"Ah, Professor Snape," said Umbridge, smiling widely and standing up again. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please."

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter," he said, surveying her coolly through his greasy curtains of black hair. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

Umbridge flushed.

"You can make some more, can't you?" she said, her voice becoming more sweetly girlish as it always did when she was furious.

"Certainly," said Snape, his lip curling. "It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

"A month?" squawked Umbridge, swelling toadishly. "A _month_? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!"

"Really?" said Snape, showing his first, faint sign of interest as he looked around at Harry. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules."

"I wish to interrogate him!" repeated Umbridge angrily, "I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!" _AKA Veritaserum,_ I thought sarcastically.

"I have already told you," Snape said smoothly, "that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter—and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did—I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling."

"You are an probation!" Umbridge shrieked at Snape. Snape looked back, his eyebrows raised. "You are being deliberately unhelpful!" I laughed at the hilarity of the statement, but I quickly turned it into a cough when all eyes turned towards me. "I expected better of you, Snape. Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!"

Snape gave her an ironic brown and turned to leave.

"He's got Padfoot!" Harry suddenly shouted before Snape could leave. "He's got Padfoot in the place where it's hidden!"

Snape stopped in his tracks, his hand on the doorknob to Umbridge's office.

"Padfoot?" cried Umbridge, looking eagerly from Harry to Snape. "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"

"I have no idea," said Snape coldly. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I'll have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job."

He closed the door behind him with a snap. Snape had been Harry's last hope. If he hadn't interpreted Harry's message correctly, Sirius was doomed.

"Very well," she said, and she pulled out her wand. "Very well...I am left with no alternative...This is more than a matter of school discipline...This is an issue of Ministry security, yes, yes. You are forcing me, Potter...I do not want to, but sometimes circumstances justify the use...I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice..."

Malfoy's facial expression changed, he suddenly looked intrigued and excited.

"The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue," said Umbridge. My head snapped back at the woman brandishing her wand at my best friend.

"No!" Hermione and I shouted at the same time, and I lunged forward. Malfoy grabbed me from Blaise's grasp, his face taking on a worried expression, as if he were afraid I get caught in the crossfire.

"Don't do anything stupid," he breathed in my ear from behind me as Hermione continued, "Professor Umbridge—it's illegal!"

But Umbridge took no notice. She looked nasty, eager, excited as she raised her wand, stepping closer to Harry who took an instinctive step backwards.

"The Minister wouldn't want you to break the law, Professor Umbridge!" Hermione pleaded again.

"He never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same..."

"It was _you?_" gasped Harry. "_You_ sent the dementors after me?"

"_Somebody_ had to act," breathed Umbridge, as her wand traveled toward Harry's head. "They were all bleating about silencing you somehow—discrediting you—but I was the one who actually _did_ something about it...Only you wriggled out of that one, didn't you Potter? Not today, though, not now..."

Just as Umbridge was about to cast the curse, Hermione screamed, "NO! No—Harry—Harry, we'll have to tell her!"

"No way!" yelled Harry, but I caught a significant look from Hermione. She was coming up with an elaborate fib on the spot.

"Hermione are you crazy?," I asked incredulously. I hoped that would sound to Hermione like I knew what she was doing, but sound to Umbridge like I was siding with Harry.

"We'll have to, she'll force it out of Harry anyway, what's...what's the point...?" Hermione said, pretending to be wracked with sobs.

"Well, well, well!" said Umbridge, "Little Miss Question-All is going to give us answers! Come on then, girl, come on!"

"Er—my—nee—no!" shouted Ron through his gag. Neville, Ginny and Harry all looked at us nervously, but I caught Harry's eyes as he realized Hermione's face was tearless.

"I'm sorry everyone," Hermione said. "But—I can't stand it—"

"That's right, that's right, girl!" said Umbridge, seizing Hermione by the shoulders, thrusting her into the abandoned chintz chair and leaning over her. "Now then...with whom was Potter communicating just now?"

"He was _trying_ to speak to Professor Dumbledore..." Hermione sobbed into her hands. Ron's eyes grew as big as saucers, Ginny stopped trying to stamp on her Slytherin captor's toes; even Luna looked mildly surprised. Fortunately, Umbridge and her minions were too focused on Hermione to notice.

"Dumbledore?" said Umbridge eagerly. "You know where Dumbledore is, then?"

"Well...no!" sobbed Hermione. "We've tried the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and the Three Broomsticks, even the Hog's Head—"

"Idiot girl, Dumbledore won't be sitting in a pub when the whole Ministry's looking for him!" shouted Umbridge, disappointment etching her features.

"But we needed to tell him something important!" Hermione wailed, holding her hands more tightly over her face, not out of anguish of course, but to disguise her fake crying.

"Yes?" Umbridge said with renewed excitement. "What was it you wanted to tell him?"

"We...we wanted to tell him it's r-ready!" choked Hermione.

"What's ready?" demanded Umbridge. "What's ready?"

"The...the weapon," said Hermione.

"Weapon? Weapon?" Umbridge asked. "You've been developing some method of resistance? A weapon to use against the Ministry? On Professor Dumbledore's orders, of course?"

"Y-y-yes" gasped Hermione. I resisted the urge to giggle at the spectacle of her terrible acting. "But he had to leave before it was finished and n-n-now we've finished it for him, and we c-c-can't find him t-t-to tell him!"

"What kind of weapon is it?" Umbridge asked eagerly, her stubby fingers digging into Hermione's shoulders.

"We don't r-r-really understand it," said Hermione, sniffing loudly. "We j-j-just did what P-P-Professor Dumbledore told us t-t-to do..."

Umbridge straightened up, looking exultant.

"Lead me to the weapon," she said.

"I'm not showing..._them_," said Hermione shrilly, looking around at the Slytherins through her fingers.

"It is not for you to set conditions," said Professor Umbridge harshly.

"Fine," said Hermione, now sobbing into her hands again, "fine...let them see it, I hope they use it on you! In fact, I wish you'd invite loads and loads of people to come and see! Th-that would serve you right—oh, I'd love it of the wh-whole school knew where it was, and how to u-use it, and then if you annoy any of them they'll be able to s-sort you out!

These words had a powerful impact on Umbridge. She glanced swiftly and suspiciously around at her Inquisitorial Squad, her bulging eyes resting on for a moment on each of the overly-eager faces.

"All right, dear," Umbridge finally took on a motherly voice, "let's make it just you and me...and we'll take Potter too, shall we? Get up, now—"

"Professor," Malfoy interrupted from behind me, "Professor Umbridge, I think some of the squad should come with you to look after—"

"I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage two wandless teenagers alone?" asked Umbridge sharply. "In any case, it does not sound as though this weapon is something that schoolchildren should see. You will remain here until I return and make sure none of these"a—she gestured around at Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna and myself— "escape."

"All right," he resigned.

"And you two can go ahead of me and show me the way," said Umbridge, pointing at Harry and Hermione with her wand, "Lead on..."

When Umbridge had shut the door behind her Draco spun me around in his arms so I was facing him.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Arabella?" he demanded of me.

"For the millionth time it's just Bella," I snapped at him, ignoring his question and looking warily around at my friends. I really didn't want to fight with Malfoy in front of them.

"Do you _want_ to get in trouble with yo—my father?" he corrected himself halfway through.

"Oh, it's alright, everyone here knows who my father is," I said snidely, "but do you really think this is the time or place for this?" He looked hurriedly around, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me just outside of Umbridge's office. "This is so much better," I commented sarcastically.

"Our fathers gave me the responsibility of looking after you this year," he whispered forcefully, still holding a death grip on my arm.

"Oh, because I'm not capable of taking care of myself?" I argued, ripping my arm from his grasp.

"Obviously not!"

"How do you make out that?"

"You were caught in the Headmistress' office! With Potter! And the Mudblood!"

"Don't you EVER call Hermione that word again!" I seethed.

"Don't change the subject, Arabella! You are in _so_ much trouble. You'll be getting a Howler for sure. You'll be locked in your room all summer for misbehaving."

"As if that's any different from last summer!" I exclaimed. "And that will only happen if I end up going back this summer."

"What do you mean..." he asked slowly, "You're not thinking of running away?"

"That's not exactly the right word. It's more like just refusing to go back..."

"And how are you going to manage that with the usual greeting party when we get off the Hogwarts Express?"

"I'll think of something," I said, crossing my arms, "I'm sure with five years of practice with Harry, I'll devise a plan. Harry, Hermione, Ron and I always come up with something." I smiled smugly, knowing this would incense him further.

"Why can't you just do as you are told?" he asked, throwing his hands up in the air. "You are the most frustrating, difficult, annoying...uncooperative...exasperating— "

"Alright, I think I get the gist of it," I interrupted him.

"Arabella..." he sighed.

"Malfoy..." I matched his tone mockingly

"We're just looking out for your best interests."

"No you aren't. I think I know what my 'best interests' are. I've spent the last fifteen years taking care of myself. I don't need a father who was never there when I was growing up to come waltzing into my life to tell me how I should act!"

"Based on what you've been up to behind our backs this year you do!"

"Don't pretend you know anything about me, Malfoy, because you don't."

"I know a lot more about you than you think I know," his voice suddenly calm. I gave him a strange look. Suddenly there a was a scuffled from inside. I saw some red sparks.

"What the—" Draco said, heading into the room, his wand at the ready. As he reached the door, I saw Ginny Weasley send a fierce Bat Bogey Hex his way. I grabbed Harry's and my wands out of his hands, peeking into the room. Ron was picking Hermione's wand out of Bulstrode's hands as she lay stupefied on the ground. He led the way out of the door, with the others close behind, grabbing my hand and whipping me around to leave as I stared amazed at their handiwork.

"Nicely done!" I commented to them all. They all just smiled. "The DA is really paying off!" I broke into a jog to keep up with Ron's long legs as we headed to the door.

"What was that all about?" Ginny asked as she came up on my left.

"What, Malfoy?" I asked. She nodded. "Just Malfoy being his usual prat self."

"So you had to spend an entire summer with him, then?"

"You heard everything, then?" I asked miserably. She just nodded again. "Yes. And his father has had me watched all year by Umbridge, Snape and Malfoy himself, as well as every other Slytherin probably. I've been in trouble with both Lucius Malfoy and my father all year," I explained, "Nice Bat Bogey Hex, by the way," I attempted to change the subject.

"Thanks!" she said, smiling, "So were they behind the attempt at transferring you to Slytherin House?"

"That was mostly Snape."

"Really?"

"Yes," I said, "On my father's orders. So I'd be closer to Malfoy to watch me."

"Oh."

"Yeah," I agreed. "So where are we going?" I asked, looking slightly confused.

"Forbidden Forest. We saw Harry and Hermione lead Umbridge that way," Ron supplied.

"Aragog or Grawp?" I asked Ron.

Everyone looked at me as though I were speaking French.

"Aragog, unfortunately," he muttered.

"I hope they're okay," Neville said nervously.

"I'm sure they are," I said calmly. "It's very rare an occasion that Hermione acts without a plan."

We headed down the path that we'd taken towards Aragog's Lair, away from the path that led to Grawp. When we'd walked a fair distance, I heard everyone whisper in turn "Lumos" and I followed suit. It was dark, and now the sky, with the stars and moon, was completely blocked out by the canopy above us. We continued on, the thick underbrush scratching our arms and tearing our robes. "How are we going to be getting to London to get to Sirius?" Ron asked after we walked a little further.

I simply shrugged, not willing to break the silence of the forest. I was listening intently to the Forest, hoping the movement of creatures or humans would indicate something, hoping I'd hear a voice ring out telling me which way to head. After a moment more of silence I thought I heard Harry's and Hermione's voices.

"Anyway, Harry, how exactly were you planning to get all the way to London?" we heard Hermione speak.

"Yeah, we were _just _wondering the same thing," I said, breaking through the brush to greet the other two, followed closely by Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna.

"So," Ron said after Harry and Hermione looked us up and down, surveying our bumps and bruises from the escape, "had any ideas?"

"How did you get away?" asked Harry in amazement, taking his wand as I held it out for him.

"Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice little Impedimenta Jinx," Ron said airily, handing Hermione her wand. "But Ginny was best, she got Malfoy while he was distracted by Bella—Bat Bogey Hex—it was superb, his whole face was covered in the great flapping things. Anyway, we saw you heading into the forest out of the window and followed. What've you done with Umbridge?"

"She got carried away," said Harry. "By a herd of centaurs."

"Ha!" I let out one loud laugh.

"And they left you behind?" Ginny asked, looking astonished.

"No, they got chased off by Grawp," said Harry.

"Who's Grawp?" Luna asked interestedly.

"Hagrid's little brother," Ron said promptly.

"More like Hagrid's _younger_ brother," I corrected.

"Anyway, never mind that now," Ron continued over me. "Harry, what did you find out in the fire? Has You-Know-Who got Sirius or—?"

"Yes," said Harry, rubbing his scar site, "and I'm sure Sirius is alive, but I can't see how we're going to get there to help him."

We all fell silent. I looked around at the familiar faces around me. They all looked afraid. The problem ahead of us, saving Sirius, facing my father, seemed insurmountable.

"Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" said Luna in the closest thing to a matter-of-fact voice I'd ever heard her use before.

"Okay," said Harry irritably, rounding on her, "first of all, 'we' aren't doing anything if you're including yourself in that, and second of all, Ron's the only one with a broomstick that isn't being guarded by a security troll, so—"

"I've got a broom!" said Ginny.

"Yeah, but you're not coming," said Ron angrily.

"Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!" said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking.

"You're too—" Harry began.

"Oh, ho, ho, I wouldn't say that..." I started. And sure enough Ginny interrupted him, "I'm three years older than you were when you fought You-Know-Who over the Philosopher's Stone," she said fiercely, "and it's because of me Malfoy's stuck back in Umbridge's office with giant flying bogeys attacking him—"

"Yeah, but—"

"We were all in the D.A. together," said Neville quietly. "It was all supposed to be about fighting You-Know-Who, wasn't it? And this is the first chance we've had to do something real—or was that all just a game or something?"

"No—of course it wasn't—" said Harry impatiently.

After a little further argument, the struggle of getting those who could not see the threstrals astride them, we were on our way to London and the Ministry of Magic to save Sirius from Lord Voldemort...hopefully.

When we reached row ninety seven of the long shelves of glittering orbs in the Department of Mysteries, we stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing down the alley beside it. We couldn't see anyone.

"He's right down at the end," said Harry, breaking the silence, "You can't see him properly from here..."

We followed him forward, between the towering rows of glittering glass balls, some of which glowed as we passed.

"He should be near here," whispered Harry. "Anywhere here...really close..."

"Harry?" Hermione said tentatively, but he didn't respond.

"Somewhere about...here..." he said.

We'd reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight. There was nobody there at all. It was just echoing, dusty silence.

"He might be..." Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the alley next door. "Or maybe..." He hurried to look down the one beyond that.

"Harry?" said Hermione again.

"What?" he snarled.

"I...I don't think Sirius is here."

None of us spoke. Harry refused to look at us. He ran up the space at the end of the rows, staring down them. I followed close behind, just in case.

"Harry?" Ron called from the original row.

"What?" Harry and I turned and doubled back.

"Have you seen this?" said Ron.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It's—it's got your name on it," said Ron.

We moved closer, taking a look at one of the small glass spheres that Ron was pointing at.

"My name?" Harry said blankly.

I craned my neck to see the yellowish label beneath the sphere that glowed with a dull inner light. It was dusty, like it hadn't been touched for many years. The yellow, peeling label beneath it read:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord

and (?) Harry Potter

We all stared at it.

"What is it?" Ron asked, sounding unnerved. "What's your name doing down here?"

Ron looked at the other labels on the shelf, while Harry and I both continued to stare at the label.

"I'm not here," Ron continued, sounding perplexed. "None of the rest of us are here..."

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," said Hermione sharply, as he stretched out his hand.

"Why not?" he said. "It's something to do with me, isn't it?"

"Don't, Harry," said Neville suddenly.

"A.P.W.B.D..." I said softly. "Those are Professor Dumbledore's initials. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"It's got my name on," said Harry, still reaching towards the little glass bulb, ignoring me completely.

"Harry, no!" I reached for his arm to stop him, but he closed his fingers around it before I could stop him. Nothing happened for a moment. The others moved in closer to take a look, but I took a step back, looking over my shoulder, fearing the worst. That's when I spotted someone in a dark cloak wearing a Death Eater mask standing in front of me, but before I could speak, a drawling voice from beneath the hood spoke.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

The others turned around, raising their wands as black shapes began to emerge out of thin air, blocking our way out of the aisle from every angle. We could see their eyes glinting from beneath their hoods as a dozen lit wand tips pointed directly at every one of our hearts. Ginny gave a gasp of horror from behind me.

"Do not harm Miss Riddle," Lucius instructed them and the wands on me trailed off to relocate on Harry who was standing behind me. "Arabella, come here, away from them," he directed me.

"I think I'm fine where I am," I said, "between you and Harry."

"When your father hears of this—" Lucius began.

"You've been trying to control me all year, but it still hasn't worked has it?" I said daringly.

Lucius hissed at me and before I could react gave a swish of his wand. I was immediately disarmed and relocated into a similar position to the one I'd been in earlier in the evening with Draco. I was now facing Harry standing next to Lucius who had one hand gripping my arm and my wand, the other directing his wand at Harry. I shook my head frantically when Harry made a move to help. He nodded slightly in understanding. It was more important he get the others out. I'd be safe either way.

"To me, Potter," Lucius Malfoy repeated in the same drawling voice, indicating the prophecy. Harry didn't move. "To me," he repeated, with his wand arm outstretched, palm up.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked, bring the hand with the glass orb against himself to protect it.

Several of the Death Eaters laughed. A harsh female voice I didn't recognize spoke triumphantly from the midst of the shadowy figures to Harry's left, "The Dark Lord always knows!"

"Always," echoed Malfoy softly. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter." The wheels in my mind began to turn. A prophecy? As in divination? What could have been predicted about Harry and my father that we didn't know about?

"I want to know where Sirius is!" Harry demanded of Lucius, interrupting my thoughts.

"_I want to know where Sirius is!_" mimicked the woman. The Death Eaters began to close in around my friends.

"You've got him," said Harry, "He's here. I know he is."

"_The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo_," said the horrible witch again in a horrible, mock-baby voice. Ron stirred from behind Harry.

"Don't do anything," Harry muttered, "Not yet—"

The Death Eater woman laughed again, her raucous scream of a giggle echoing in the room.

"You hear him? _You hear him?_ Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!"

"Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix," said Malfoy softly. It was Bellatrix Lestrange, then, that terrible woman. Draco's Aunt Bella, the woman who tortured Neville's parents into insanity and had recently escaped Azkaban. I shivered with the realization. "He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. _Now give me the prophecy, Potter_."

"I know Sirius is here. _I know you've got him!_" Harry began to panic.

A round of laughter rippled through the crowd of Death Eaters again.

"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," said Malfoy. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

"Go on, then," said Harry, raising his own wand to chest, pointing it at Luicus. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna all raised their wands as well. I gulped.

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," said Malfoy after a moment when the Death Eaters didn't strike. I was startled as Harry laughed.

"Yeah, right!" he said. "I give you this—prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"

The words were hardly from his mouth when Bellatrix shrieked, "_Accio Proph—_"

"_Protego!_" came Harry's counter, he'd obviously been ready. The glass sphere had slipped to the tips of his fingers, but he had caught it before it clashed to the ground.

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," she said, her eyes staring through the slits in her hood. "Very well, then—"

"I TOLD YOU, NO!" Lucius Malfoy roared at the woman. "If you smash it—!"

Bellatrix stepped forward, pulling off her hood revealing her gaunt, skull-like features. Azkaban had not been good to her. "You need more persuasion?" she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Very well—take the smallest one," she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. "Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it."

The members of the D.A. reflexively moved to surround Ginny, Harry moving to stand right in front of her.

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," Harry told Bellatrix. "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?"

Bellatrix didn't move; she just stared at Harry, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth.

"So," Harry said, "what kind of prophecy are we talking about anyway?"

"What kind of prophecy?" repeated Bellatrix, the grin fading from her face. "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting," said Harry, looking around at the Death Eaters. I followed his gaze. There was no escaping, no weak link to be found. "How come Voldemort wants it?"

"You dare speak his name?" whispered Bellatrix.

"Yeah," said Harry, "Yeah, I've got no problem saying Vol—"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with you unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare—"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" said Harry recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear.

"Harry..." I warned, but was jerked back by Lucius.

"Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle—or has he been telling you lot he's a pureblood?"

"_STUPEF—_"

"NO!"

A jet of red light had shot from Bellatrix's wand, but Malfoy deflected it before it could reach Harry. The stray jet of light hit a couple of silver orbs on a lower shelf, breaking them. Small figures, like pearly white ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves. Their voices vied with each other, so that the fragment of what they were saying could be heard over Malfoy and Bellatrix shouting at each other. Suddenly I had an idea, we needed to break a bunch of the orbs to create a diversion. But the trick was going to be conveying it to the others.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!"

"He dared—he dares—" shrieked Bellatrix incoherently. "—He stands there—filthy half-blood—"

"WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!" bawled Malfoy.

"You haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over," Harry said. I caught Harry's eyes. I used the free arm that was hanging by my side to point to the shelves, indicating the orbs on the shelves. He followed the motion of my hand with his eyes, then looked up at me again.

"Do not play games with us, Potter," said Malfoy as I noticed Harry's foot wandering toward Hermione's. He was searching to get someone else's attention.

"I'm not playing games," said Harry. I then put my hands together in front of me putting the fingers of my right hand touching the fingers of my left, forming a circle to represent the orbs I'd indicated before. I then rotated my wrists backwards, breaking the circle as I mouthed the word "break" to him. He gave the slightest of nods.

"Dumbledore never told you that the reason you bear the scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?" said Malfoy sneeringly.

"I—what?" said Harry almost distracted as he'd reached Hermione's foot and stepped on it, getting her attention. "What about my scar?"

"_What_?" I saw Hermione whisper at Harry from behind him.

"Can this be?" said Malfoy, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again, and Harry smartly took the opportunity to relay a short instruction to Hermione.

"Dumbledore never told you?" Malfoy repeated. "Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter, the Dark Lord wondered why you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording..."

I saw Hermione pass the message to Neville beside her, who then turned to Luna.

"Did he?" said Harry. "so he wanted me to come and get it did he? Why?"

"_Why?_" Malfoy sounded incredulously delighted. "Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered when he attempted to use others to steal it for him."

I sighed in relief when I saw the message had made it full circle to Ron on the other side of Harry. All of the members of the D.A. present stood at the ready, more erect, their teeth set in determination.

"And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?" Harry asked.

"About both of you, Potter, about both of you...Haven't you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?"

"Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me?" he said quietly, gazing at Lucius Malfoy. _That's what it says on the label, Harry_, I wanted to say. His stalling was great, but it was making him look dumb. "And he's made me come and get it for him? Why couldn't he come and get it himself?"

"Get it himself?" Bellatrix shrieked with a cackle of mad laughter. "The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time with my dear cousin?"

"So he's got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?" said Harry. I cringed. Not the best way to put it. "Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it—and Bode?"

"Very good, Potter, very good..." said Malfoy slowly. "But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintell—"

"NOW!" yelled Harry.

Five voices bellowed "_REDUCTO!_" and five different curses flew in different directions at the shelves, shattering the orbs. I kicked a foot out and got a bunch off the shelf to my left just before I was yanked back by Lucius who was now gripping my right arm so tightly that my fingers were going numb. I seized the moment, ripping my wand from Malfoy's grasp with my free arm and stomping on his toes in a very Little-Orphan-Annie-type fashion. He released me, cursing slightly as I hurtled toward Harry.

"RUN!" I heard Harry yell through the mist of pearly-white figures unfurling in the air. I followed him, feeling the Death Eaters right on our heels. We didn't stop until we were safely through the door in which we had entered.

"_Colloportus!_" Hermione gasped, locking the door behind us. Only Neville, Hermione, Harry and I had made it through.

"Where—where are the others?" Harry asked winded.

"I don't know," I responded, breathing heavily, "I just stomped on Lucius' foot and dove after you."

"They must have gone the wrong way!" whispered Hermione, terror in her eyes.

"Listen!" whispered Neville, pointing towards the door.

"Leave Nott, _leave him, I say_, the Dark Lord will not care for Nott's injuries as much as losing the prophecy—Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, _do not harm Arabella Riddle under any circumstances._ The Dark Lord will be furious if she sustains even the slightest injury. And you must be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary—Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left, Crabbe, Rabstan, go right—Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead—Macnair and Avery, through here—Rookwood, over there—Mulciber, come with me!"

"What do we do?" Hermione asked Harry, trembling head to foot.

"Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start," said Harry. "Let's get away from this door."

I followed Harry, Hermione and Neville through the Department of Mysteries. When Hermione was hit with a silent curse sent by a silenced Death Eater and hit the floor, I nearly died inside, not knowing whether she was dead or not. When Neville felt a pulse I finally took in air I hadn't realized I'd been denying my lungs. We met up with the others in the circular room only to find Ron acting completely funny, Ginny was unable to stand due to a broken ankle, and Neville's nose just continued to gush blood, dripping down onto the limp Hermione's robes who was thrown over his shoulder. That's when the Death Eaters found us again. We rushed into the brain room again, only for Ron to do something completely idiotic (but so totally like Ron) and get tied up in the tentacles of one of the mysterious brains. I looked to Harry for instructions, but he just raised the prophecy orb in his arms, way above his head and ran for it. I recognized immediately that he was trying to get the Death Eaters to follow, leaving the others alone. Smart. Bellatrix sprinted right after him in hot pursuit.

"Stay here. I'm going after him," I said simply to Neville and then hurtled myself after Harry and the Death Eaters. Harry entered the room with the archway and the strange veil. He fell down the stairs, and all of the Death Eaters laughed at him in response. I skipped down the stairs after him, just barely evading the grasp of one of the Death Eaters who tried to stop me. All I could think was that if I stood in front of Harry they wouldn't be able to get through me to harm him. I reached him, pulling him up by the armpit to his feet as more and more Death Eaters entered the room, leaping from bench to bench to surround us. The prophecy was miraculously still intact in his left hand, his wand clutched tightly in his white-knuckled right hand. We backed up, away from the Death Eaters until we bumped against the dais on which the archway stood. Harry climbed up onto the dais and I followed, attempting to remain decent in the process with my school skirt still on.

The Death Eaters all halted, staring at us. Most all of them were panting. One was bleeding badly and Dolohov was leering, his wand pointing straight at Harry's face. I moved my body to position it in front of Harry, hoping to protect him should any Death Eater dare to hurl a fatal curse his way.

"Potter, your race is run," drawled Lucius Malfoy, pulling off his mask finally, "Now hand me the prophecy like a good boy..."

"Let—let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" said Harry desperately.

"Harry, don't," I said under my breath as the Death Eaters laughed, drowning out what I said for everyone but Harry.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter," said Lucius Malfoy, his pale face flushed with pleasure. "You see, there are ten of us and only you and Miss Riddle here. Or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you to count?"

"Dey're dot alone!" shouted a voice from above them. "Dey've still god be!"

I brought my hand to my face, slapping my forehead slightly in frustration.  
"Neville, I told you to stay with the others!"

"Neville—no—go back to Ron—" Harry started.

"_STUBEFY!"_ Neville shouted, but it didn't work. One of the largest Death Eaters seized Neville from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. He struggled and kicked; several of the others laughed.

"It's Longbottom, isn't it?" sneered Lucius Malfoy. "Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause...Your death will not come as a great shock..."

"NO!" I screamed, jumping off the dais.

"Longbottom?" repeated Bellatrix, and a truly evil smile lit her gaunt face. "Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy..."

"I DOE YOU HAB!" roared Neville, trying to get away from his captor, who was struggling to hold him so much that he shouted, "Someone stun him!"

"No, no, no," said Bellatrix. She looked transported, alive with excitement as she glanced at Harry, then back at Neville. "No, let's see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents...Unless Potter wants to give us the prophecy—" I was walking slowly toward Neville, trying not to be noticed, hoping everyone was more preoccupied with the boys.

"DON'D GIB ID DO DEM!" yelled Neville to Harry, not taking his eyes off of Bellatrix. He was beside himself, kicking, writhing as Bellatrix approached him. She raised his wand as he screamed again, "DON'D GIB ID DO DEM, HARRY!" I'd almost reached them when Bellatrix raised her wand I hurtled myself at Neville, trying to get in front of him. Several things happened at the same time. I took one last leap as I heard Lucius yell, "Bellatrix, NO! _PROTEGO!_" at the same moment Bellatrix yelled, "_CRUCIO!_" The last thing before everything went black was Harry screaming my name and a terrifying crack of my head against the stone steps.

I heard voices before I was able to open my eyes.

"It was a good thing you were there, Lucius, to apparate her out of there," I heard a soft voice from somewhere in the same room.

"Yes, well if Bellatrix hadn't gone crazy and been preoccupied with the joy of torturing another Longbottom, she would've noticed her moving in that direction and young Arabella would not have sustained such an injury," Lucius' voice drawled bitterly.

"Well she's alive and well now," said the first voice. My head was throbbing as I tried to open my eyes to no avail.

I heard a knock on the door and footsteps entered the room.

"How is she doing?" came a new voice. It sounded familiar, but I still couldn't place it.

"My Lord," I heard a scuffle as people moved from their original positions.

"She's not awake, but she's doing much better. We've repaired the gash in her head as well as her broken wrist and leg."

"Good. You may rise, Lucius, Narcissa." I decided that voice was my father's. That meant the first voice was Narcissa Malfoy's. "Although you failed to obtain the prophecy you successfully evaded capture by Aurors and saved my daughter. I hear from the others that if you'd not acted so quickly she would have bled out quickly after her tumble down the stairs. For that, the Dark Lord thanks you." I inwardly scoffed at him referring to himself in the third person, like I usually did, but it made my head ache.

"I just wish I'd been able to stop Bellatrix in time," Lucius said. The room was becoming brighter behind my eyelids and I attempted yet again to open my eyes.

"I've already dealt with Bella and the others who made it out. They understand they must not fail me again," came my father's voice. Finally my eyes fluttered open, but the room was blurry.

"Arabella?" Narcissa asked. She was sitting in a chair next to my bed, holding my hand. She'd noticed right away when I'd opened my eyes. I looked at her, focusing my eyes slowly. I opened my mouth to speak, but my mouth was so dry no sound escaped. "Here," she said, holding a glass of water to my lips. I took a couple small sips with her aid. She replaced the glass on the beside table next to a huge jug of water and some blood-soaked towels in a bin. She then moved away so my father could come and stand next to me.

"My Arabella," my father grabbed my hand. "I'm so relieved to see you awake."

"What happened?" my memory was failing me.

"You sustained a bad injury in the Department of Mysteries. You were hit with two spells at once, knocking you out, and you fell down the stairs, cracking open your head, breaking your right wrist and your left leg."

"Where am I?" I croaked out.

"Malfoy Mansion."

"How long?" I asked cryptically.

"You've been knocked out for several hours, my child," he looked down at me as I looked ahead. Narcissa and Lucius were standing at the foot of my bed now. I dared not ask about Harry and the others. "But you will make a full recovery. You'll need to stay in bed for a few more days, I think though."

"What about school?" I asked, looking up at him again. I desperately wanted to go back, make sure everything was okay.

"Professor Snape will be arriving in an hour to transport you to the hospital wing at Hogwarts so that you may finish out the term as if all is normal," he explained. "You should get some sleep, I have a bottle of the potion for Dreamless Sleep for you. You'll wake up at Hogwarts later this afternoon, little one. But I will see you in another week or so," he leaned down to kiss me on the forehead before placing a small bottle on the bedside table and sweeping from the room.

"You should take the potion and go back to sleep, dear," said Narcissa.

"Wait," Lucius stopped her. "First off, here's what will happen. Snape will retrieve you and take you to the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. He will tell Madame Pomfrey that you were hurt in a fall down the stairs. As far as anyone is concerned, you were not at the Department of Mysteries last night. Neither was I. I'd apparated out before the Aurors arrived, so no one but your little friends saw us and no one will believe a couple of fifteen year olds, some of which were cursed into stupidity," he drawled bitterly.

"Lucius, your tone," Narcissa warned gently.

"She needs to understand, Narcissa," Lucius said, not taking his eyes from me. "Draco will visit you in the Hospital Wing tomorrow. Your story will simply be that you fell down the stairs after he sent you to bed after catching you at Umbridge's Office last night. Snape met you in the corridor on the way to breakfast this morning and you passed out from the concussion you sustained. He carried you to the Hospital Wing and that's how you came to be there. No Department of Mysteries. No fight with Bellatrix Lestrange. I was at the theatre last night with my wife. Several people saw us there. Got it?"

"What if I don't?"

"Your father may just break his promise to your mother about not harming you. Clear?"

"Crystal."

He strode from the room without any further pretense.

"Don't let him upset you, dear. He's just upset that they couldn't get the prophecy and that Harry Potter got away again," Narcissa said, coming around to uncap the potion for me. "Drink up. You need the sleep. You'll be back with Draco at Hogwarts before you know it."

I took the potion without a word, just glad that she'd revealed the information I needed: Harry was safe. What about the others? As the potion started working I could feel the pounding of my head receding. I took a deep breath and nestled into the warm bed, content that I'd wake up at Hogwarts soon enough, at which point I could see my friends and get some answers.

_A/N: Phew! That was long. I just wanted to get all that info in there. I wanted to explain how Bellatrix had almost killed Bella since that was mentioned during the Parkinson Ball chapter. This also explains how Lucius didn't end up in Azkaban and is still respectable in the Ministry's eyes during Bella's Sixth Year. So, naturally the conversation between Harry and Draco at the end of the 5th book (p 851 American version) didn't take place in quite the same way. But the cover-up about Bella not being at the Department of Mysteries was supposed to work, even though Dumbledore and everyone knows the truth. OK. Thanks for reading that chapter. I know it was a beast! I LOVE REVIEWS! *hint hint*_


	15. Chapter 15: Diagon Alley with new AN

_A/N: This is shorter than the last one, but that one was a beast. I'll try to update again over the weekend. Wednesday is my LAST Organic Chemistry test, and then I have a break from school until September 9. Sooooo, I should start updating more often (hopefully) during that period of time. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to all of my wonderful reviewers. It really does make me want to write more when I get reviews. Thanks for reading! I appreciate that, too!_

_**Disclaimer:**_ Harry Potter is not mine. It's J.K. Rowling's. I've borrowed her world for a while and placed Bella inside of it. But it's just for fun.

**XV. Diagon Alley**

It had been quite some time since my last visit to Diagon Alley. It was teeming with life again, the few shops that had been destroyed in the Death Eater attacks a few years ago had been repaired and taken over by new shop owners. I felt as exhilarated being there after my years at Hogwarts as I had the first time I'd stepped onto the main street with Harry and Hagrid when I was eleven. Things were a little different now, of course. I wasn't here to pick up school supplies. It was much too early in the summer for that anyway. There was evidence of my father's increased control in subtle ways: the Dark Wizarding shops weren't limited to renting space in Knockturn Alley, and thus Dark Wizards littered the walkways between the shops, carrying out their business in broad daylight. I felt a little uneasy about being here. I saw eyes follow me as I took a step forward away from the Leaky Cauldron, from where we'd entered the Alley. Draco walked beside me, one hand in his pocket, nervously fingering his wand. We were flanked, rather conspicuously, by Fenrir Greyback, Augustus Rookwood, and Alecto Carrow, who stalked forcefully down the path, smiling evilly to intimidate any wizard who dared look our way. This was possibly my least favorite of the guards my father had formed for my protection on outings. I felt less safe with these people, only trusting Draco to step in if they should get out of hand or lose their tempers. Presuming Draco would still want to save me, that is.

I'd been fretting all morning about what had been said last night. I wasn't sure how I was going to get an apology in with him, what with the guard following us around and his successfully ignoring me. I'd seriously considered not calling Trinky to tell Draco I was ready to leave. I'd thought about just hanging around the Manor for the day, reading and minding my own business. But then I thought about how much I hated being cooped up and it occurred to me that a walk, some fresh air, and some time out of that blasted prison of mine might do me some good. The last words my father had uttered to me had somehow made an impact on me (for once). "_Just be good. You know how." _I'd decided to do as I was told today. I mean, within reason. I wasn't going to go kill someone or jump off a cliff. But I would do all I could to follow instructions and be a dutiful young . Amenable and sweet-tempered. For Draco. I took a deep breath as this came to mind again. This was going to take a lot of self-control.

"So, Arabella, what shop would you like to go into first?" Draco interrupted my thoughts.

"Pardon?" I asked, trying to return to the present.

"Which shops would you like to go to?" Draco asked again, not looking at me, but keeping his eyes ahead of him, his chin the air.

"Whatever shops you would like to go in I'm sure would be fine," I said, trying to be kind.

"This outing is for you. If you have no opinion then perhaps we should just return home," Draco said huffily. I could tell I was not going to be able to easily tell what would be the right thing to say today.

I swallowed the snide comment I was going to make and instead said, "I'd like to go into Flourish and Blotts, if that's alright," I said.

"Of course," he nodded.

"But I'll need to stop at Gringotts to get some gold from my vault," I mentioned.

"That will not be necessary," Draco said, looking in shop windows as if he weren't carrying on a conversation with me.

"Well, Draco, I'll need some gold to pay for things," I said, trying not to let the sarcasm drip from the comment, but failing miserably.

"I've been instructed to purchase whatever you desire," he said coldly, stopping to look in the window of a shop.

"Draco, as much as I appreciate the generosity of your family, I'd prefer paying with my own money," I said at his back.

"This is not a discussion," he turned on me.

"I worked enough summers while I was still at the orphanage to get me through," I started, trying to keep my voice soft and calm.

"But you are part of our family now, and that's the end of that," he hissed.

I opened my mouth to speak, to argue, to yell, but closed it and nodded simply. I turned and walked towards Flourish and Blotts across the alley from where Draco was standing, without checking to see if he was following me. I browsed the books on the new release table before heading up the stairs to the loft above the store. There I ran my fingers along the covers of the books on the nearest shelf, skimming the titles and authors. I saw Phyllida Spore had published another Herbology book since the last time I'd been in, _Herbology A-Z_. I skimmed through it. It looked like the perfect gift for Neville, whose birthday, like Harry's, was coming up. A new Numerology reference book caught my eye and I immediately thought of Hermione and her love of Arithmancy. Perhaps I could get their birthday presents today and find some secret way to send them. I placed both books in the crook of my left arm, continuing to look at the other books. There was an encyclopedia of useful spells, complete with moving diagrams for wand motions and results of the spells, caught my eye. I picked that up for myself and turned to head back down the stairs, almost colliding with Draco. Without a word he took the books from me. I bit my tongue so as not to mention his rudeness.

"_The Complete Encyclopedia of Ultimately Useful Spells, Numerology for Nuts, _and _Herbology A-Z_, huh?" he said, shuffling the books as he read the titles aloud. "Why would you want these?"

"Well, I find these things interesting," I lied, using what I knew of Occlumency to close my mind. "That one," I continued, pointing to the Herbology book, "is by the same author who wrote _1000 Herbs and Where to Find Them._"

"But this couldn't be a gift for Longbottom, could it? The Herbology freak?" he said, looking at me skeptically. "And this," he said lifting up the Numerology book, "Couldn't be for the Mudblood?"

"What makes you say that?" I asked innocently.

"Put them back. All of them," he said rudely. My face flushed in anger, but I took them from him, rather forcefully, turned on my heel and returned them to the shelves. I stalked past Draco and barely refrained from the temptation to stomp loudly down the stairs in a childish manner before heading out the door and to the stationary store right next to Flourish and Blotts. Draco finally caught up to me as I was looking at some of the quills. I was hoping to buy a new codex of parchment and a new, nicer quill. I'd always kept a journal of stories, poems and reflections, but I'd run out of parchment a couple months ago and not had the courage to ask for a new journal. I ran my fingers over the leather covers of some of the nicest codexes, before looking at the quills they had on display. The highest end quill, though gorgeous and impeccably made, was worth more than most of my textbooks had been for one year at Hogwarts. I looked at it longingly before moving on to the quills I knew I could afford. I still had a little gold in my own purse, and I was hoping to not let Draco purchase anything for me.

"Can I help you, miss?" said the shopkeeper as he saw me looking at the quills.

"Oh, well, I'm just looking for a new quill is all," I responded, smiling, "trying to decide which one of new styles I fancy most."

"Let me know if I can help you," he said, and then turning as Draco walked toward me at the back of the store, "Ah, Mr. Draco Malfoy, how may I be of service to you?"

"Get the young lady whatever she desires," Draco said, nodding his head toward me. The shopkeeper raised his eyebrows as Draco approached me. I was staring at the same quill I had been two minutes ago, not really seeing, but trying not to let Draco see he was getting to me. "What do you need here?"

"Am I allowed to get something for myself here? Or will it be the same story as at Flourish and Blotts?"

"You need a new quill?" he asked, ignoring my question.

"I'd like a new one, and I need a new journal."

"What are you looking at these quills for? They are of the same quality you already have."

"It's what I can afford," I said.

"Money is not the question," he said simply.

"It is for me; I'm a penny-pincher."

"You are a Malfoy now, or close. You don't have to worry about that anymore, Arabella. You don't need to be a _Weasley_." He was obviously being purposefully cruel. First he'd called Neville a freak, Hermione a Mudblood and now he'd made a comment about the Weasleys. He was aggravating me on purpose. My face grew hot as my blood boiled with anger, but I took a calming breath, not wanting to show the rise Draco was trying to get out of me.

"I don't really need a new quill. The one I have is fine," I said calmly, walking towards the front of the shop again. When I'd almost reached the door, which had a Death Eater standing on either side of the frame on the outside, I heard Draco speak again to the shopkeeper in a whisper, before turning on his heel and following my path towards the door. I looked at him quizzically before he put his hand on my back and gently pushed me out onto the street.

We toured the Alley, stopping in at Quality Quidditch Supplies, where I found the perfect birthday present for Harry, a Golden Snitch that I could have personally engraved. I'd have to get his gift, as well as Hermione's and Neville's, through Owl Mail Order. I hadn't figured out how I was going to manage that exactly, but I'd make it happen somehow. I also dragged Draco into the Magical Menagerie so I could look at all the cute animals. I'd never had a pet of my own, so I always loved to look at the many animals and dream about getting a pet of my own. I'd always wanted a pet when I'd been at the orphanage, but I wasn't as covetous of a pet now that Shadow was around at the Manor. It was still fun to walk around and gawk at all the magical creatures.

We stopped for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron after checking out the shops on one side of the Alley. I could tell as my feet began to drag and my eyes began to droop that my blood sugar had dropped. Luckily, Draco decided it was time for lunch about the same time I'd thought of mentioning my need for a rest. I would've chalked it up to him being observant like he usually was, but he hadn't taken one look at me all morning save for the encounters in Flourish and Blotts and the stationary store. The Leaky Cauldron was crowded, so our group had to split up. Draco and I ended up sitting at a table alone. Well, it was less of an "end up" and more of a staging on my part, since I would have nothing to do with eating lunch with Fenrir Greyback. When we'd sat down and ordered some salads and sandwiches, I crossed my hands in my lap and looked up at Draco, who was taking a sudden, but obviously forced interest in his drink.

"Draco?" I called softly.

"Yes?" he said, stirring his straw in his drink.

"Draco, will you just look at me? You've been giving me the could shoulder, all morning," I said, and before he could answer I continued, "No, scratch that, it wasn't just the cold shoulder, it was the cold elbow, knee, back and eyeball as well."

His face remained placidly indifferent and he looked up, but away toward the kitchen as if he were overly anxious for the food.

"Draco, I'm _sorry_," I said. He looked at me finally, but just raised his eyebrows in expectation of the rest of my apology. "I'm _so_ sorry I said I hated you. It wasn't true. I was just angry, and I have this terribly tendency of spitting out things I don't mean when I'm angry," I looked pleadingly at him. He held my gaze for a few excruciating moments, and then broke the gaze to continue staring into his drink. "Draco, please."

"Please what, Bella?" he spat at me, unintentionally using my preferred name in his anger. "Please forgive and forget? It's not that easy. I think the phrase was _I despise you with all of my heart and soul._ I'm a practiced enough Legilimens to know you weren't lying."

I gasped. I hadn't realized that it could have been the truth. I'd thought all night about how guilty I felt about saying it. But did I feel guilty because it was a lie, or because it hurt another person when I said it?

"I don't think I meant that I hated you, Draco," I said slowly, trying to think through everything, trying to choose my words carefully. "I think what I meant, what you perceived as truth, is that I hate our predicament."

"Our predicament?" he asked sardonically.

"Yes. I hate being forced into a relationship with you. I hate that you are a Death Eater. I hate that you choose not to feel compassion for other people, when you clearly have it within yourself to do so."

Our conversation was momentarily interrupted when our food came. I thanked the waiter when he placed our plates in front of us, noticing that Draco still hadn't taken his eyes off of me since my last statement. When the waiter had gone, I picked up my fork to dig into my salad, but paused to look up at Draco, who still hadn't blinked.

"You realize that by saying you hate that I'm a Death Eater you're basically saying you hate who I am, right?" he asked, spite still filling his tone of voice.

"And you became a Death Eater completely by choice?" I asked.

"Yes."

"That fact that your father is one, and my father probably threatened your life had _nothing_ to do with it?"

He didn't answer.

"Mm-hm," I affirmed. I paused to put a forkful of salad in my mouth. "If you'd had a choice in your life, what would it have been? I mean, if you could be anything, any_one_, what or who would you be?"

"I...I..." he thought. He stopped and swallowed. "It doesn't matter. What's happened has happened, and what is, is. That's life. And this is mine."

"You can still change it."

"No," he shook his head, "No, I can't."

"You can't? Or you won't?" I asked pointedly. "Just because it's hard doesn't mean it's not possible."

"Are you suggesting I switch sides? Become a traitor?" he asked, more calmly than I thought he was capable of.

"No," I shook my head, stabbing some lettuce a little more forcefully than I'd meant to. "I'm suggesting you do things in your life for yourself, not for your father or my father. Toss expectations out the window and act in a way that makes you able to live with yourself."

"I'm fine right where I am," he said, his face showing no emotion.

I looked into his eyes, trying to determine whether he was lying or not. He was far too good an Occlumens for that.

"Okay," I surrendered, looking back down at my food. I was suddenly terribly disappointed. I'd been so convinced the small glimpses of goodness I saw in him ran deeper, such that the life he'd chosen as a Death Eater would be admittedly the wrong one for him.

"Everything alright?" the waiter had returned to check on us.

"Fine," Draco said for us, still looking at me, not at the waiter. I looked at the waiter and smiled, nodding my head in agreement. The waiter left, and we continued to eat our salads in silence.

"You haven't argued with me at all today," he mentioned out of the blue.

"No," I said, lifting a forkful of lettuce to my mouth.

"Any particular reason?"

"I thought that it might be a good way of apologizing. Changing my behavior. And since you wouldn't listen to me when I tried talking with you, I figured perhaps my actions would speak louder to you than my words," I quickly shoved another forkful of lettuce in my mouth. Silence fell on the table for a little longer. I looked over Draco's shoulder to see an older witch, with a pointed nose, wearing a black balaclava. She looked oddly familiar, though I couldn't place where I could have seen her before. She caught my eyes as I stared at her, but I looked ashamedly down before I could continue my musings as to where she was from.

"Well it worked."

"What?" I asked, suddenly confused as I'd been lost in my thoughts.

"It worked," Draco said. "I noticed the change in your behavior. It was...refreshing, to say the least."

"Anything to please his highness," I teased.

"I did miss the teasing, though," he pointed out.

I blushed. I thought back to the summers I'd been forced to spend at Malfoy Manor following the reemergence of my father. We'd fought more often than not over the years, but after being forced together for years, we'd established a way of teasing that was bluntly honest, a bit underhanded, fun and easy. We learned a lot about each other from our teasing, and it did tend to lighten the dark mood surrounding Malfoy Manor.

"But, perhaps you could continue to behave yourself. It might make life easier for everyone."

"It might," I said, "but I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't speak out against the cruelty everyone chooses to ignore."

"We don't choose to ignore it," Draco said. I looked up at him, surprised. "We know full well it's there. We just find it an excellent technique for...getting a point across."

"Manipulation," I said simply.

"Yeah, basically," he nodded.

Our sandwiches came and our salads were cleared away.

"Is that why you hate being forced into a relationship with me?" he asked after a long silence.

"Hm?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Manipulation. You don't like being manipulated?"

"No one likes being manipulated, Draco," I commented.

"Well, of course not, but is that the reason?"

I thought for a moment, carefully removing the parts of the sandwich I didn't like from between the two pieces of bread. "That's part of the reason. Every bad relationship I've had has been partly due to manipulation on the guy's part. I also don't like the fact that we didn't _choose_ each other. Our parents chose for us. It's so, so..._Elizabethan._ I don't want you to be Paris to my Juliet. I'll just go run off with Romeo."

He laughed at this. I was surprised.

"Did you get that reference?"

"Shakespeare?" he asked. "Sure."

I raised my eyebrows in question.

"Everyone thinks he's a Muggle, but he wasn't. He wrote about magic. And any excessive magic was written out by half-blood translators."

"Interesting," I commented.

"So, if you weren't forced into a marriage with me, would you marry me?" he asked.

I paused, cocked my head to one side, perplexed. "Wait, what?"

"I mean, if you weren't forced into a relationship with me, would you consider, out of your own free will, dating me?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "Bella wouldn't. She's Harry Potter's best friend and you tormented her and her friends throughout school."

"But..." he could hear it in my voice.

"But Arabella Riddle might," I said.

"Why?"

"Because Arabella had to spend enough time with you forcibly over the past few years to realize that deep down, whether you'll admit it or not, you are a considerate, compassionate, and—although rarely—a sweet young man," I said.

He nodded. I finally picked up my sandwich to take a bite.

"I hate to break it to you—" he started

"—but I still don't have a choice in the matter?" I finished.

"Um, yeah," he said, his tone indicating surprise at my ability to complete his sentence. "And you could make it easier on yourself by just coming to terms with that."

"I'll try," I said, taking a sip of my lemonade.

He looked at me skeptically.

"I'll try _really_ hard."

He laughed.

"I must say, your self control this morning was enormous. I should be mortally offended by you more often," he said.

"I could arrange that," I offered.

"Uh," he said, "that's okay. Thanks though!"

I laughed. We fell into a comfortable silence as we finished our lunch. When our plates had been cleared and our check paid, I stopped him before he stood to leave, placing my hand on his.

"I don't hate you, Draco," I reaffirmed, just to make sure he knew.

"I know," he said. I nodded, looking in my lap to fold the cloth napkin to put on the table. But he continued: "And I still love you."

We spent the afternoon walking back up Diagon Alley on the opposite side. Draco stopped me from going into Madame Milkin's since Narcissa refused to go there anymore. He promised that perhaps he'd take me to Twifit and Tattings if we had time. We browsed through the Wizarding Instrument store, a jewelry store and a music store before stopping at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor for a treat. When we continue on our path we came across Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes. I stopped in my tracks, but Draco just kept walking. I looked into the windows, seeing glimpses of Fred and George, wearing hideously matching suits, walking around the young witches and wizards who were checking out their merchandise. I so wanted to go in and give them hugs. I wanted to see if Ron and Harry were there helping out, maybe even Ginny. Draco turned back when he realized I was no longer next to him.

"Come, Arabella," he said, taking my hand gently in his, and pulling me away.

I let him lead me away, my eyes still glued to the two twins who had been such a joy to get to know during my years at Hogwarts. I was so close to them physically, yet felt so far away from them now. I knew I'd never be allowed to go into that store. My gaze was finally torn away as I heard a crash. I young witch had tripped over a round bin holding some merchandise outside a shop on the opposite side of the street.

"Sorry, sorry!" she exclaimed, apologetically. Her dark brown hair flowed in gentle curls long past her waist. She set the stand back up and then turned around. I looked at her, feeling the same I'd felt about the witch in the Leaky Cauldron. All of a sudden she grinned at me and winked, closing her eye lid over one of her brilliantly purple eyes, before turning and continuing down the opposite side of the street.

"I think I'm ready to go home, Draco," I said, when I turned back from looking at the witch walk away. He was still holding my hand, and I felt deflated after seeing the Weasleys without being able to stop and say hello.

He looked at me and I watched his eyes search my face. He sighed, "Okay," before nodding at the Death Eaters who had been following at a safe distance to indicate we were leaving. "Let's get back to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Thank you," I said. "And thanks for taking me out today, even though you didn't want to."

He just smiled and squeezed the hand he was still holding. I had a strong urge to pull away, but decided not to ruin the moment.

When we reached the Leaky Cauldron we were met with a surprise. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were waiting for us just inside the front door.

"Mother, Father, what are you doing here?" Draco asked when he saw them.

"We've decided a short stay in London might be a nice break for us all," Narcissa said sweetly. "We thought we would be able to catch you here before you headed home. We're staying at a hotel in Covent Garden," she said. "We'll go out to eat, go shopping, catch a show at the theater tomorrow night...how does that sound, Arabella?"

"It..." I looked at the expression on Draco's face, equally puzzled by this sudden change in plans, "It sounds wonderful." I finished.

"Well, let's Floo over, then," Lucius said.

As Draco pulled me toward the fireplace, I heard Lucius whisper instructions to the other Death Eaters return to the Manor.

"What's going on?" I asked under my breath to Draco.

"No idea, just stay close," he said tightly.

"Draco, you'll Floo with Arabella," Lucius stated before I could ask the name of the hotel.

"Yes, sir." He grabbed some floo powder in his open hand. "The DragInn!"

We were spinning around very quickly with the familiar roar of noise and the green flames as we were sucked through the fireplace. When we stopped spinning we stepped out onto a lush green and gold rug in a high-ceilinged entrance to a very fancy hotel. I looked up at a huge domed glass roof with a crystal chandelier the size of Hagrid's hut hanging down from the center, casting light onto the plush furniture surrounding the area. The Malfoys exited shortly afterward.

"Mr. Malfoy, what an honor to have you staying with us," a man suddenly stepped forward in impeccably clean black dress robes. "If you'll follow me, your rooms have been prepared for your arrival."

"Thank you," he said coldly, and we followed the man toward a glass lift. When we entered he spoke the number of our floor and the elevator moved quickly upwards. Less than five seconds later the lift doors were opening again on the seventh floor.

"Whoa," I said, amazed at the speed.

The man from the hotel smiled gently at me, before waving his arm forward to indicate we could step off the lift. He led us down the hall until he came to the very end.

"Here are your keys," he said, handing them to Lucius. "If you need anything, please just ring for the front desk," he finished, before bowing and ushering away. Lucius handed a key to Draco before opening the door to the room we were standing in front of. Draco took the other key and after dropping my hand finally, unlocked the room right behind us. When we entered there were two queen sized beds, a fireplace, a smaller, but no less impressive, chandelier hanging from a ridiculously high ceiling. The bathroom was enormous, equipped with two sinks, a toilet, a jacuzzi bath tub and shower at least three times the size of a normal one.

"Wow," I sighed again.

"And our trunks are already here," Draco said.

"Wait, _our_ trunks?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Meaning..."

"We'll be sleeping in the same room, yes."

"But that's completely inappropriate!" I nearly bellowed.

"Not for two people who will eventually be married," he said gently, with a slight warning in his voice. "And we have separate beds. Besides, I'm more concerned with why we are here."

"You don't know?" I'd assumed that he'd been in on this and just feigning confusion back at the Leaky Cauldron.

"No. I'm going to go ask Father. Stay here."

Before I could protest, he was out the door. I sat down on the bed by the window, the trunk I used for Hogwarts was at the foot of the bed. I opened it to find it empty. Puzzled, I turned to the wardrobe. When I opened it, I found all of Draco's and my robes hung up neatly inside. _Now that's a bit much; I think I can unpack for myself_, I thought. Our best dress robes were hung, no casual clothes present. _Narcissa must have had her personal house elf pack_, I thought to myself, T_rinky would've thrown in at least one set of sweatpants for me. _ I also didn't understand why half my closet had accompanied us here if we were just staying for one night. I had more clothes in this wardrobe than I'd ever taken to Hogwarts for an entire year. Something fishy was going on. I looked out the window onto an extensive courtyard between the wings of the hotel. Maybe I could convince Draco to take me on a walk in the gardens. It looked beautiful. Just then, the door opened and Draco walked in.

"You should put something nice on," he said. "We're going out to dinner."

"What's going on?" I asked, he seemed slightly agitated. He ignored me, walking over the wardrobe.

"Here, you should put this on," he said handing me a light blue dress robe set.

"Draco—"

"There's been word there would be a raid by the Order tonight," he whispered hurriedly in my ear as he handed me the robes. "I'm not supposed to tell you. You should just think we're here to have some fun, a break from your lessons, but the Dark Lord wanted you out of the house in case they did come. So, just act like you don't know, okay?"

I nodded.

"And be on your best behavior," he added for the zillionth time before I could move. "Stay close. Don't do anything stupid. We don't know if they're watching us, or if they were at Diagon Alley today." His voice had become agitated and worried.

I nodded again, taking the dress from his fingers.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but I put my hand up to tell him to stop. "Don't worry, Draco, I'll be good."

He gave me a disbelieving gaze as I moved to the bathroom to go change.

"An absolute _angel_," I sent him a sweet smile before closing the door.


	16. Chapter 16: Simple Gifts

AN:_ Warning: language! Not my favorite chapter, but it has important information. Something's not quite right about this chapter, if you figure it out, let me know, because I can't put my finger on it. _

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Harry Potter!_  
_

**XVI. Simple Gifts**

I exited the bathroom a while later, dressed in the robes Draco had handed to me and with my hair pulled back in a simple bun at the nape of my neck. Draco had changed into dress robes as well and had combed his hair so it was styled perfectly. As he handed me a pair of heels I noticed a small pile of packages on the table beside the wardrobe by the window.

"What's that?" I nodded my head towards the table as I pulled the heels on.

"Oh, our packages from today arrived," he said. I looked at him confused. "Our purchases," he said, as if that explained everything.

"But we didn't buy anything," I said. Which we hadn't.

He chuckled lightly. "Go look," he said, tilting his head toward the table, a smug smile on his lips.

I walked slowly toward the table, still looking at him suspiciously. When I reached the tablet here were four boxes.

"Go on," he said. I picked up and opened a thin rectangular box that was the color of parchment. Inside was a leather bound codex with an intricate design of the night sky on the front. I ran my hand over the cover, admiring it.

"It's beautiful," I breathed.

"A new journal for you," Draco said. He had made his way to stand beside me, and was standing next to the window.

"Draco—" I started, but he picked up the box beside it, handing it to me. It was obviously a box made to hold a quill.

"Draco," I whispered. "You didn't!"

"I did," he said quietly. I lifted the lid to find the newest top-of-the-line quill that I had been drooling over that morning in the stationary store but had immediately deemed far too expensive. I looked at him, amazed, twirling the quill between my thumb and forefinger.

"You really shouldn't have."

"Yes, I should have," he said, putting his hands in his pockets. "Besides, you needed a new quill," he shrugged.

"Thank you so much, Draco," I said. His eyes locked on mine, the coldness of his gray eyes softened slightly.

"You still haven't opened the others," he suddenly looked back at the table.

"What?" I asked, confused. He nodded to a longer, white package for me to open. I lifted the lid, looking at him suspiciously before peering inside. I pulled away the pink tissue paper to find a lavender colored shawl inside, one I'd spotted and stopped to appraise outside one of the women's accessories shops we'd walked past. It was enchanted to glimmer different colors of purple in the sunlight as well as to become lighter or heavier as the weather changed to suit the wearer's fancy in temperature control. I lifted the shawl from the paper, feeling the fabric.

"How did you—" I started, turning to him.

"How did I know you wanted this?" he asked. I nodded. "I could tell by the look on your face that you fancied it."

"But why did you purchase it? It's not like I _need_ it. Your mom has already bought me a shawl and dress in every color of the rainbow plus some colors I didn't know existed."

He laughed.

"But I'm serious!" I insisted.

"Don't you remember what I told you this morning?" he asked, "My instructions?"

I shook my head.

"I was instructed to purchase whatever you desired," he said, "and I saw that you desired these things, so I bought them."

"But it's a waste of money!"

"Are you saying you won't use the quill and journal? You won't wear the shawl?" he asked.

"No, no!" I admitted, heaving a sigh. "I'll use them, but I don't _need _them."

"Arabella, when will you learn that you are a part of our family, if not in name then in principle," he said, taking the shawl from me and folding it back in the box. "And whatever a Malfoy wants, a Malfoy gets."

I looked back at the table, to the smallest of the boxes. I lifted the top as I had the others to find a jewelry box inside. I thought back to the jewelry shop we'd entered and knew exactly what was inside: a pair of white gold earrings in the shape of roses, which, every few hours, would bloom from a bud to rose, lose its petals and then begin the cycle again.

"I feel terrible that you spent this money on me," I said.

"I was given whatever my heart desired when I was a child," Draco said. "I was spoiled by my parents in every way. I imagine that at the orphanage you barely received what you needed let alone desired." I looked down at the ground, avoiding his gaze at this comment. "We can afford it. Let me dote on you as my father dotes on my mother."

"But—" I opened my mouth to argue. I had several arguments lined up. Firstly, that I wanted for nothing when I was growing up at the orphanage and thought myself better for being, as he put it, _less fortunate_. I was more humble and less selfish than many of the witches and wizards who were given their every heart's desire. Secondly, that this was still not an excuse for buying me things I didn't need. And thirdly, that he shouldn't be doting on me as a husband dotes on a wife, because, well, we weren't husband and wife.

But of course, before I could speak he had reached into his pocket and pulled out another little jewelry box, which stole my voice away.

"I picked this up for you as well," he said, "I thought of you immediately when I saw it."

I looked down at the box, slightly terrified. I feared the worst. He'd mentioned an engagement when he was reprimanding me the other day, but it couldn't _possibly_ be...

"It won't bite you," he said at my hesitation, thrusting the box a little further toward me.

I took it, looking up at him. His grey eyes betrayed a twinkle, and his thin mouth was raised at the corners in a slight smile. I opened the box, still holding his gaze before looking down. Inside on a thin, practically invisible silver chain, hung a dragonfly made from a jewel of light blue, the same light blue of my dress.

"May I clasp it around your neck?" he asked, taking it from me before I'd formulated an answer. I turned around so he could fasten it securely. "There was a reason I picked those dress robes for you," he said. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"How did you know?" I asked, my tone careful.

"Know what?" he asked nonchalantly. I refrained from rolling my eyes as I turned to look at him.

"How did you know my patronus is a dragonfly?"

But before I could get an answer out of him there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" we both called at the same time. Lucius and Narcissa entered, both in their best clothes.

"Are you ready?" asked Lucius, the coldness that usually laced his voice had lightened slightly.

"Yes," Draco answered for us, "Let me just grab my cloak and Arabella's shawl for her," he strode quickly over to the wardrobe, pulling out his black cloak and my pearl-colored shawl. He gracefully placed it around my shoulders before grabbing his wand from the side table beside the bed and putting it in the pocket inside his jacket. He walked towards me, placing his hand on the small of my back and guiding me out the door after his parents. He double checked the door had been locked before we headed toward the lifts.

When we arrived at the restaurant, there was a line out the door. When we entered, though we were seated immediately.

"Mr. Malfoy, a table of four, of _course_, sir, right this way," said the manager upon seeing the blond man with the austere walking stick. It was obvious the Malfoys had power and prestige, no matter where they went in Wizarding London. The waiters and waitresses practically fell over themselves and each other in order to serve us as quickly and accurately as possible. When the first course came, I looked down at the silverware bewildered by the number of forks present. I looked to Draco for direction, who just continued to talk with his parents, picking up one of his own forks to show me which one. I picked up the one at my table setting that matched what he had done and after watching everyone take a bite of their own food deemed it appropriate for me to follow suit. Narcissa had been so keen to get me prepared for the Parkinson ball we hadn't quite gotten to manners fit for a fourteen-fork-formal-family dinner out.

"Did you find anything in Diagon Alley today, Miss Riddle?" Lucius asked me.

"Yes, actually," I said, looking up from my food, stealing a glance toward Draco. "Draco was sweet enough to get me the new quill and codex of parchment I was admiring this morning. I ran out of parchment in my last journal and this will be a lovely replacement."

"Ah, wonderful," Narcissa said, taking a sip of her water (bottled that had been poured in a glass). Behind her, I noticed a witch with a pointed nose wearing a black veil. It was the same witch from the Leaky Cauldron, but without the balaclava. I stared at her as she was seated by the window several tables away.

"Arabella?" I heard Draco's voice and I reluctantly pulled my gaze back to the table.

"Yes? Sorry?" I asked, my eyes focusing back on the table.

"Mother asked if you'd seen any Shakespeare."

"Oh," I said, "Oh yes. Though probably not the same Shakespeare as you have."

"Ari didn't realize that Shakespeare's works were altered for Muggles," Draco explained.

"Terrible idea, if you ask me," Lucius commented, "Besmirching the name of a great Pureblood playwright."

"They used to take us to a show once a summer at the orphanage," I explained.

"Well, we'll be seeing A Midsummer Night's Dream tomorrow night," Narcissa said.

"I adore that play," I said happily, flashing my best smile.

"It will be slightly different than the one you saw in Muggle London, Ari," Draco explained. "But I think you'll enjoy it even more."

I simply smiled and nodded, taking another bite of food. When I looked up the witch in the veil had suddenly turned her head away, but I'd still caught her glancing at me. And then it hit me. I _had_ seen that witch before. In the Hog's Head, during the first D.A. meeting my Fifth Year at Hogwarts. It was Mundungus Fletcher under that veil! I pulled my gaze away, hoping I hadn't been looking in one place too long, and took another bite of food. I half-heartedly listened to the Malfoys' conversation as I attempted to steal slight glances around the dining room. If Dung was here, did that mean that other Order members were too? Was the raid really happening tonight, or was it an excuse to get me out of the house so I could be rescued by some members of the Order? Were they going to save me from my father?

The second and third courses passed without event. The conversation drifted from subject to subject and I answered questions when asked, not volunteering information where not requested, just as Mrs. Malfoy had instructed me for Parkinson Ball. As the waiters cleared our plates and prepared to set down the plates for dessert, which I really didn't think I had any room for, I saw a young witch with blonde hair cut in a reverse bob nearly bowl over a waiter carrying an armful of dirty dishes. She sheepishly moved out of the way and I saw those brilliant violet irises that I'd seen with the curly-haired witch at Diagon Alley. Clumsiness and changes in appearance could mean only one thing: Tonks. I nearly laughed. I was being tailed by the Order. Or at least some members of the Order. Perhaps there was hope for a rescue.

"Excuse me," I said, rising from the table. Lucius and Draco rose from their seats as was custom. "I just need to visit the ladies' room."

"Shall I accompany you?" Narcissa asked.

"No, no," I said. "I'll be fine, thank you." I caught a look between Draco and his parents in which he shook his head. He was vouching for me that I would be fine to go alone. In all of the guards my father had picked, he always sent a female to follow me into the restroom. I was elated to find that Draco thought I could be trusted. About bloody time. And it was the perfect occasion. Now I just hoped Tonks would see me head to the restroom alone and follow. I heaved open the door marked "Witches" to enter a palace of a bathroom, with rows and rows of stalls and sinks with several different gilded faucets. I picked a sink and peered intently at the faucets. It would only take a touch on the tip of it to tell the water to start flowing. I touched each faucet in turn. Each emitted a different colored liquid, some with bubbles, some with odd-smelling oils, one with a light blue goop I hoped was some sort of hand sanitizer. I picked the one that was simply water and a rose-smelling soap to wash my hands under slowly. The door creaked open as I continued to lather my hands in a painstaking fashion. The little witch with blond hair and violet eyes entered and took her place at a sink a couple down from mine. I looked at her, but she didn't make eye contact. I was suddenly stricken with the fear that it wasn't Tonks at all and I'd just imagined the whole thing.

"Are you using the _rose_ scented soap?" the witch asked me as I used the faucet of clean water to rinse the suds from my hands.

"Yes," I answered, puzzled by the question. "It's a lovely smell."

"_Ara_ you visiting London?" she asked again. I nodded simply to avoid a long explanation. "Have you visited Big Ben? Heard the _bells_?" I looked up suddenly from the towel rack. Rose. Ara. Bells. She was saying my name.

"We visited the British Museum as well," I fabricated, thinking as quickly as I could. "I—I, uh saw a painting of Calypso's _Nymph_s that I simply _ador_ed."

She sent me a brilliant smile and a wink at hearing her own name in response. Nymphadora.

"What brings you to London?" I asked bluntly, but of course it seemed like a normal question in context.

"I'm visiting a friend," she said.

"Oh?" I asked. "For very long?"

"It was just for the day," she said sadly. "But I'm hoping that there will be an opportunity for her to...visit me soon, though I'm not sure when we'll be able to arrange that."

"And why not?"

"Unfortunate circumstance that we cannot maneuver around," she said cryptically. I looked down at the floor. "She's needed where she is right now, even if my...family and friends feel we need her more. She's—she's especially good at her job, you see, and she simply can't take a vacation."

I smiled and nodded.

"Arabella?" the door opened to reveal Narcissa Malfoy. I busied myself drying my hands. "We began to get worried about you," she sent a suspicious glance at the blond who was now putting lip gloss on, looking in the mirror.

"I'm sorry," I said, turning to follow her from the bathroom, not daring to glance at Tonks as we left, "I got lost on my way finding the restroom. That's probably what took so long."

"Well, I'm glad it was just that," Narcissa smiled weakly. "Who was that young lady in the restroom with you?"

"I don't know. She'd just asked me if I had some moisturizer she could borrow, which I did not," I supplied simply.

We reached the table and sat down, I did not see Tonks again, but Dung hung around at the same table he'd been sitting at before until we left. I was slightly distracted through dessert, barely touching the white chocolate cheesecake Draco had ordered for me, but tried my best not to think about the conversation I'd had with Tonks. At least not while I had my father's minions watching me.

We returned home later than planned. I was dead on my feet by the time we'd gotten back to the hotel, but my mind was racing. The Malfoys had fallen silent with equal exhaustion, and I was able to let my mind wander to the conversation I'd had in the women's restroom. So, Tonks and Dung had been following me since that morning. But, they hadn't come to rescue me. I didn't quite understand why they'd come at all if not to whisk me away when no one was looking. Everyone was worried about the raid at the Malfoy Manor. The moment in the bathroom would've been perfect to just apparate me out of there. But then Tonks had mentioned, albeit cryptically, that I needed to be where I was. She must have had a conference with Snape before coming to see me; their words were eerily similar. Why did they have to go and give me hope by having Tonks make contact with me? And had there been an attack on Malfoy Manor at all? Or was that just an excuse to get me out of the house to have Tonks come talk to me? It wasn't like she'd given me any vital or interesting information.

"You okay?" Draco interrupted my thoughts as he unlocked the door to our room.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, just tired," I said simply.

"You've been a little off since dinner," he commented, "Something on your mind?"

"Plenty."

"Anything you'd like to share?"

I smiled at him, "Not right now, but thank you."

He nodded and took my shawl from my shoulders, hanging it as well as his own in the wardrobe. "Did you—" he said suddenly, looking in the wardrobe. "No, of course, you couldn't have..."

"What's wrong?" I asked. He was still looking in the wardrobe, a baffled expression on his face.

"The wardrobe is arranged differently than it was when we took the cloaks out for dinner."

"How can you tell?" I asked, walking over to the wardrobe.

"Look," he pointed. I looked at the clothes, they were hung in the same fashion they were when we left. "Your red dress wasn't on the end when we left. It was somewhere in the middle. And my favorite jacket was next to your purple robes, it's not now."

I looked again. He was right, the clothes were in a slightly different order, but I wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't brought it to my attention.

"Wow, you don't miss a beat do you?" I said to him.

"You have to be observant like that when you're..." he trailed off.

"In a war," I finished for him, wanting to avoid the whole "Death Eater" comment again. He just nodded.

"Someone broke in and went through our things. Let me check to see if anything is missing before you get ready for bed," he said. He searched the room. Nothing had been taken. Which ruled out a common burglar He cast a few charms to check for curses as well as in hopes of revealing traces of magic. Nothing appeared.

"Okay, I'm going to go talk to Father about this. If you want to get ready for bed, go ahead, but he'll probably want to come help put wards up for the night."

I nodded, taking my heels off and placing them in the wardrobe but decided to stay in my robes until after Lucius left. Draco walked swiftly from the room, and when I heard the door to the room close, I moved over the table with the packages from our trip to Diagon Alley on it. I ran my fingers across the leather-bound journal admiringly. I opened up the first page and was startled to see something laying inside the notebook with a short message scrawled on the page. I took a furtive glance towards the door to check no one was there before stepping closer to the table to look down. Lying in the margin of the codex was a familiar silver chain. I picked it up, a large grin spreading across my face. At the end of the silver chain was a magical oval-shaped locket with a loopily cursive "B" engraved in the middle, small roses on the edges surrounding it. It opened to reveal a miniature photo album, one photo mounted on a little silver slide I could flip to reveal the next photo. The first few pictures were familiar to me since they'd been put in the locket before I'd been given it. First was a picture of Harry, Ron, Hermione and I after the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, all four of us soaked through to the skin, we had our arms around each other and were smiling and laughing. The next was a picture of Hermione and I at a Museum in Muggle London from the summer after Third Year. A picture of Ron and I followed, from a Halloween feast, both of our faces were stuffed with Pumpkin Pasties. Then I saw pictures I didn't recognize: the D.A. in the Room of Requirement. Neville and Luna watering plants in Greenhouse Three, Ginny holding Arnold in all of his purple glory, Tonks and Lupin in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, Fred and George demonstrating their Skivving Snackboxes over and over again, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with Moody and Hagrid, and lastly a picture of Harry and I in our Quidditch Robes, the Golden Snitch clutched tightly in Harry's right hand, it's wings still flapping as it tried to escape, the bright red Quaffle under my left arm. After all the little pages of pictures was the back of the locket, which bore the same engraving it did the day Harry, Hermione and Ron had presented it too me on the train to our Fifth Year at Hogwarts: _We will always be your friends. And we will always love you. No matter what. And don't you forget it._ Below this were their signatures engraved, their handwriting matching their personalities perfectly. I looked down at the note in the journal, where written in Harry's untidy scrawl, just as short and sweet as most of Harry's notes were, appeared the words, _Forget something?_ I let out a half laugh, half sob, which I stifled quickly when the door opened. I closed the journal and hid the locket in the fist of my hand, looking up and blinking the tears away from my eyes.

"Ari?" Draco questioned when I didn't turn around.

I plastered a smile on my face and turned. Lucius and Draco stood just inside the closed door, both of their wands raised.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no," I said quickly, dismissively, "Just admiring the quill again."

"I'm going to search the room, Miss Riddle," Lucius began. I nodded, not quite trusting my voice. "You should move into the new room."

"New room?"

"Yes, we can't very well have you stay in a room that has been broken into, can we?" he said.

"Oh," I hadn't even thought about it, "oh, of course not."

"We're in room 717 now, just down the hall," Draco said, handing me a key. "We've already put up some protective wards. Go ahead and get ready for bed."

"Let me just grab— "

"No," Lucius interrupted before I could get to the table to grab the journal or a nightgown. "We will move your things tomorrow if they are deemed safe," he explained. "Everything you need is already in the new room."

Draco caught my eyes and gave me an encouraging look as I headed out the door, my fist white-knuckled as I squeezed the locket tighter in my anxiety over the note still written clearly in the journal in a room two Death Eaters were set to search top-to-bottom.

I walked down the hall until I came to the appropriate door. I unlocked the room to find a smaller, but equally exquisite room. Both queen beds were pulled down and had night clothes folded neatly on the ends. A simple pink night gown and matching robe had been placed on the end of the bed by the window. Beside it was small wicker basket full of essentials: shampoo, soap, a toothbrush and tooth paste, floss, deodorant.

After a moment of looking about the room, I grabbed the handle of the basket and the night gown, heading for the bathroom without loosening my grip on the locket. I closed the door behind me and locked it. I placed the basket on the counter by the sink and double-checked the lock, even though it wouldn't prevent anyone with a wand from entering. I put the toilet lid down and sat down, opening my palm, "Shit, shit, shit," I said, then looked up and apologized for the profanity as if God were right above me. Then, looking down into my palm I said, as if to the locket, "What am I going to do with you? I can't really hide you, or wear you, or magic you into invisibility." I ran my fingers through my hair, the locket still in one hand, pulling hair from my bun. "I'm dead," I groaned to no one in particular.

"Bella?" I heard a voice and jumped up from the seat, "Arabella?" It was Draco.

"Yeah?" I called back through the door, stashing the locket at the bottom of the basket on the counter.

"You okay in there?"

"Oh, yes, yes," I said busying myself at the sink. "Marvelous." I heard a low grunt of disbelief but ignored it to wash my face. After brushing my teeth and hair, I pulled off my dress robes, folding them on the counter, and pulled on the pink night gown. It only reached my knees, which I would usually hate, my preference being for pajama pants anyway, but what caught my eye was the neckline. It was a relatively high-necked gown and if I simply switched the dragonfly necklace out for the locket, no one would notice. They both had silver chains, and that's all that would be visible. Without another thought, my hands flew to the clasp at the back of my neck and the two necklaces were replaced. I tucked the locket carefully under the night gown and put the dragonfly necklace with the toothpaste in the box the toothpaste had come in, returning the cosmetics to the basket. I took one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath and then unlocked the bathroom door, exiting with the basket and dress robes in hand. Draco was sitting on the edge of his bed when I entered the room and went to put my dirty clothes and the basket on the chair by the window.

"Find anything?" I asked him casually.

"No," he answered. "No curses, no spells, no clues, no trace of magic."

"Well, that's good," I sighed. He looked up at me. "Good that we weren't in any danger in a cursed room, not good that there wasn't evidence to link anyone to the crime, of course," I supplied quickly.

He nodded, returning to look at the wall in front of him. I looked away and moved toward the bed, turning on the lamp on the table between our beds.

"They were here, weren't they?" Draco asked. I stopped moving suddenly and then turned to face him.

"Who?" I asked. He was looking straight ahead still.

"The Order."

"I—I don't know"' I answered. I continued to look at him, sinking slowly to sit on the bed.

"_He_ was here, wasn't he?" he asked.

I knew exactly to whom he was referring.

"Who?" I furrowed my brow in mock-confusion.

"Harry," he said softly, "Saint _Pot_ter," Draco spat Harry's last name, looking at me finally.

"I don't know," I said, his gaze unnerving me.

He gave a curt nod, rose from his seat and walked towards me before throwing something onto my bed. I looked down to see my new journal. My jaw dropped slightly, but I closed it quickly when I realized it was open. Draco looked at me expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

"My journal," I said, trying to sound joyful but innocent. He didn't respond. I opened the cover to the first page. It was blank. A small jolt of panic coursed through my body, making me flinch. Had Harry used ink that faded? Or had Draco found the note and ripped it out? It didn't look like any pages had been removed. I closed the journal and looked at Draco again.

"What did you forget?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" I asked, knowing he was referring to the note. He'd read it.

"What did you _forget_, Bella?" he asked again, his voice cruel.

"Nothing, _Draco_," I replied, matching his tone. "But you've obviously forgotten you're not supposed to call me that. Not that I'm complaining of—"

"Don't play with me," he cut me off, "He was here. What did he do?"

"Nothing."

Draco snapped. He was in my face, his nose inches from mine in a millisecond, his eyes smoldering, boring a hole into mine.

"You are damn lucky I found it and not my father," he spat. "If he had found this it would be in the Dark Lord's hands instead of on your bed."

I let my eyes dart away in discomfort before I returned them to catch his gaze again.

"Now, you can make this difficult, Bella, and suffer the consequences when I tell your father, or you can tell me the truth, and I can decide whether it's necessary to alert your father it was Potter at all."

"How do you know it was him?"

"I read enough mail during Umbridge's reign to memorize the characteristics of the penmanship of all the members of the Golden Quartet."

My mouth formed an "oh" without a sound escaping, and I looked down at my hands. I fiddled with my fingernails before deciding I'd rather face Draco than Dark Lord Daddy. And, technically I hadn't done anything wrong.

"It was a reminder."

"A reminder?"

I looked up at him and nodded. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation of more information.

"Not to forget that they are my friends, despite the—" I searched for the appropriate word choice, "despite the war or the circumstances of my birth."

"Why did they go through our things?" he asked next, "What were they looking for?"

"I don't know."

"Bella—" he growled.

"No! I really don't!" I exclaimed, "Honest. All I can think is that he may have been looking for information."

"On what?"

"Our future whereabouts, Father's plans—" I broke off, looking away.

"Or?"

"Or—" I continued reluctantly, "horcruxes?"

Draco nodded. Moving away. I took a deep breath now that I had room. So far the locket was still safe and sound.

"Why would they want to know our whereabouts?"

"No idea."

"Are they planning to kidnap you?"

"No," I said too quickly.

"How do you know?" he asked suspiciously.

"It wouldn't exactly be kidnapping if I went willingly, would it?" I asked. "Plus, I'm of age, so really, I could walk out whenever."

"Don't change the subject," he said. "Besides, there's no chance we'd let you walk out."

"I've noticed," I said bitterly.

"How do you know they aren't coming for you?" he repeated the question.

"A hunch," I shrugged.

"Have you been in contact with anyone from the Order?"

"No," I lied. He scrutinized me, but I'd closed my mind and he was unable to tell if I was lying or not.

"Shall I rephrase? Has anyone from the Order been in contact with you?"

I scoffed, "No."

He didn't speak for a moment, but he stood and paced the room, darting glances at the journal every once and a while.

"You know I'll have to tell your father," he started.

"But you said—!"

"I said I'd decide, but you mentioned horcruxes..."

"But I didn't do anything!" I exclaimed.

"I know," he said, "So why are you so upset?"

"You know my father," I said, "And he'll find something to get angry at me for over this."

"Are you hiding something?" he asked.

I looked back at my nails, "No."

"Or implying your father isn't fair?"

I snorted. Of course that's what I was implying.

"Bella, as long as you tell the truth, your father won't be angry."

I just stared at the ground.

"How did you get the message out of the journal?" I asked.

"I obliterated the ink off," he explained.

I nodded in understanding.

"It's late and it's been a long day, you should get to sleep," he said finally.

"And what about you?"

He cracked a smile, "I'll be going to bed, too. Don't you fret."

I rolled my eyes at him and climbed into my bed.

"Uh, my book is in the other room..." I started.

"You'll get it tomorrow," he said, moving toward the bathroom with his pajamas and his own basket of essentials.

"But, I can't sleep unless I read," I whined, over-the-top on purpose.

He turned, shaking his head at my childish behavior, "Just get some sleep, Bells."

"Since when do you call me 'Bella' or 'Bells?'" I asked. "Only Harry calls me 'Bells.'"

A strange look spread across his face at the mention of Harry.

"I figured it wouldn't hurt to call you what I called you in my head for the first four years of my life at Hogwarts, as long as it's just us in the room. Especially since you prefer it," he commented.

"Well, thank you," I said. He shrugged before moving into the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself. I looked after him for a moment.

I collapsed back onto the bed, my hair spreading out around me like a halo, _What a peculiar day_.

_AN: Thanks for your patience! I'll try and update again ASAP. Congrats to those who recognized Tonks! Please review! _


	17. Chapter 17: Oh, Draco

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not lay claim to Harry Potter. It's J.K. Rowling's.

**XVII. Oh, Draco.**

I had trouble falling asleep that night. My mind raced with thoughts of my three best friends, the Order, the locket, and the fear of my father's reaction to the information I'd given Draco should Draco actually tell him. I was also slightly uncomfortable knowing Draco was sleeping in the bed next to my own. I hadn't slept in the same room as anyone since Hogwarts. Even then it had just been the Gryffindor Girls, all of whom I'd known since I was eleven. It was different with a full grown man in the same room, not to mention I was hyper-aware of the sound I made whenever I would reposition myself. Finally, I just laid back on my back, my arms above my head, staring at the ceiling.

"Will you at least _try_ and sleep?" came Draco's voice, husky in his attempt to be quiet.

"I am trying," I whispered back.

"Staring up at the ceiling doesn't count as trying," he commented.

"I have a lot on my mind," I returned.

"You can think about whatever it is tomorrow, when the sun is up, and we've both slept for a few hours."

"My lack of sleep isn't preventing you from sleeping, Draco."

"I won't be able to sleep until you do," he responded.

"Why not?" I asked, "Don't tell me my father wants you to wait till I fall asleep until you do."

"Well, not exactly," he said.

"Well, what then?"

"I just want to make sure..." he trailed off.

"You just want to make sure I don't run off when you are snoring like a freight train?" I supplied.

He chuckled lightly, which made me smile.

"First off, I don't snore—"

"Oh, that's what they _all_ say!"

"And second off," he called above my comment before lowering his voice, "it's just a habit."

"You have a habit of waiting for everyone else to fall asleep before you do?" I asked incredulously.

"I usually double check to make sure you're asleep before going to bed myself," he confessed.

My face grew very hot in embarrassment, and I wasn't quite able to find the words to respond to this.

"And just so you know," he said in an offhand way, "I'm a light sleeper."

_Which translates to, ''Bella can't get up in the middle of the night without Draco knowing about it," _I thought to myself.

I turned over on my side so I was facing Draco's bed. He was laying on his back, looking up at the ceiling in a similar fashion to my previous one.

"Draco?" I called through the darkness.

"Yes?"

I wanted to ask him why he'd kept the note in the journal from his father. I wanted to ask him why he was calling me Bella now. I wanted to ask him why his ice-cold facade sometimes changed when we got along even though we still could fight like Crookshanks and Scabbers.

"Good night," I said simply instead.

"Good night, love."

"Don't call me 'love,' Draco," I reminded, as I turned to look out the window instead of at him.

"Ari," I felt a hand pull the hair from my face, "Ari, time to get up."

I groaned and rolled over onto my back, blinking my eyes against the sunlight. Draco was sitting on my bed, holding a mug of steaming liquid in his hands. When my eyes focused fully, I used my arms to push myself to a sitting position.

"Here," he said, pushing the mug into my hands, "Breakfast is on its way."

"Thanks," I took a long sip of the Earl Grey tea.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"Yeah, actually," I said, surprised myself. "And you?"

"Yeah, once I got there," he said.

I decided not to dignify that with a response.

There was a knock on the door. I moved to get up, but Draco waved me back into bed.

"Stay there," he brandished his wand before moving to the door.

"Room service!" came a call through the door.

He waved his wand to release the protective wards and then opened the door slowly, his wand drawn high.

"Uh, your breakfast, sir?" came a worried voice behind the door.

"Place the tray on the ground and back two paces away," Draco instructed coldly. I heard the rattling of the tray being placed on the carpeted floor in the hall. "Here is your tip," Draco levitated a few coins through the crack in the door, "Now go."

I heard the footsteps die away. Draco opened the door more fully, looking down the hallway each way. He crouched down on the ground, close to the tray before casting a few spells and smelling the food. When he was finished and satisfied with the results, he picked up the tray, closing the door to the room behind him and restoring the wards. He placed the tray on my bed, sitting down again beside it.

"Do you think you scared the room service kid enough?"

"Necessary precautions," he waved my comment away. He took one of the covered plates and wrapped silverware off the tray for himself before lifting the silver breakfast tray onto my lap. "Eat up."

He stayed seated on my bed, pulling the lid off of his breakfast and unwrapping his silverware. I watched him for a moment, only turning to my breakfast when he looked up at me. We ate in relative silence. A knock on the door after breakfast revealed Lucius Malfoy with two garment bags containing our clothes for the day. An outfit for our day on the town and a dressier one for the evening at the theater. I sighed as I took the garment bag from Draco after his father left, heading toward the bathroom.

"What's the sigh for?"

"I wish that I could just wear sweat pants for once. Jeans and a t-shirt. Anything but dress robes," I explained.

"Not when we have an image to uphold."

"I know, I know," and I closed the bathroom door behind myself.

After showering, drying, primping and dressing—for all four of us—we were ready to go. I had carefully tucked my locket under my robes, which weren't as high necked as I'd hoped. It was going to be hard making sure the locket didn't spill from the garment during the day, but I didn't trust anyone to leave it behind.

"We'll be apparating straight to Covent Garden," Draco explained on our way down to the lobby. "You'll be doing a side-a-long with me."

"Isn't Covent Garden a Muggle place to shop?" I asked quietly, so as not to solicit the opinion of the two adults walking before us.

"The Muggle side was built hundreds of years after the Wizarding side," Draco replied.

When we had reached the lobby, Draco held out his arm. I placed my hand inside the crook of his elbow and he pinned my hand to his side before apparating out of the beautiful hotel. I disliked the feeling of being squeezed through a tube enough when I was doing it on my own, but to have no control over it was even worse. I was glad the squeezing didn't last very long before we were let out into the fresh air of a beautiful summer day. The lane we entered was much wider than that of Diagon Alley. Shops lined either side, and down the middle were small kiosks every four or five meters. It seemed there were fewer people shopping in Covent Garden than in Diagon Alley, or perhaps it was that there was more room. The shoppers were as diverse as the shops, some were impeccably dressed and walked with an air of superiority, others were in casual robes, rushing to and fro with their heads down. I didn't fail to notice no one was wearing Muggle attire, as was often seen in Diagon Alley due to its popular entrance from Muggle London. I released hold of Draco's arm as I heard the pop signaling the arrival of his parents.

"Well, where shall we start, Arabella?" Narcissa said, her tone reminding me of a school girl shopping with her best friend. "We'll want to hit Twifit and Tattings, Jacobson's Jewelers, and Madame Maquilla's."

I simply nodded as Narcissa looked around to catch her bearings before heading down the lane with a purposeful walk.

"Take my arm," Draco instructed, holding out his elbow again.

I looked at him skeptically.

"Just do it," he said. I let him place my hand on the inside of his elbow and we followed his parents down the lane. When Narcissa looked back to see us following she positively beamed at our position.

"She's in love with the idea of us being in love," Draco said before I could make a snide comment about being used to please his mummy. "She adores you, Arabella."

"I don't know why or how," I said.

"I talked about you to her when we were in school together."

"Oh?" I looked up to find he was looking away from me.

Suddenly there was a flash of a camera going off and I involuntarily gripped Draco's arm a bit tighter. I caught sight of a very familiar set of blond curls and red nails.

"Oh, a family outing!" came the annoyingly sweet voice of Rita Skeeter. I barely held back a scowl. She'd bounced right back into her old position as a coveted reporter for the _Daily Prophet_ after my Sixth Year at Hogwarts. "Care to comment on the recent law forbidding any future Muggleborns from receiving wands or an education at Hogwarts?" she asked Lucius bluntly. My eyes bugged out of my head I'm sure, for Draco placed his other hand upon mine in his elbow, squeezing it lightly. I had not heard about this law; I hadn't really heard much of anything from the outside world, come to think of it, except that my father had a hand in the Ministry now.

"The Ministry is obviously taking into consideration the necessity of retaining pure bloodlines amongst the Wizarding Community, a stance I have firmly supported from day one," came Lucius' reply, a small smile pulling up the edges of his mouth in an unpleasant manner.

"And where will the highly-regarded and esteemed Malfoy family be shopping this afternoon?" she asked Narcissa in turn.

"We'll be picking up some new dress robes for Arabella in Twifit and Tattings before heading on to Jacobson's and Maquilla's," Narcissa answered loftily. I winced slightly at the mention of my name. I didn't need the attention, especially from Skeeter.

"Miss...Arabella?" Skeeter turned to me. "Is this not the Bella that was best friend and fellow orphan of Harry Potter?"

"_Arabella_," corrected Lucius Malfoy, "was fortunate enough to learn after you met her during the Triwizard Tournament, that she is the daughter of the last heir of Slytherin as her father, Tom Riddle, and the last heir of the esteemed pureblood Roberts family as her mother, Ann Marie Roberts. Her mother was very close to my dear Narcissa, and named us as Arabella's guardians should she die. Unfortunately during the First Wizarding War, Arabella was separated from her mother and somehow ended up at an orphanage until her true heritage was revealed."

"Oh, how lovely," came Skeeter's reply. "I'm sure you feel much more at home with the Malfoys than you did at the orphanage, my dear?"

"The Malfoys are very generous and their hospitality has overwhelmed me," I said, catching a pointed look from Lucius over the reporter's shoulder.

"And you and the young Mr. Malfoy are an item, I see?" she said.

I opened my mouth to protest, trying to release myself from Draco's grasp, but Draco held on and answered the question carefully.

"We've been friends for years and have discovered a...mutual attraction," he said, looking at me.

Rita opened her mouth to emit another question but was cut off by Lucius insisting she let us continue our family outing in peace. The curly-haired reporter asked for one more picture of us together, despite the fact that the photographer had continued to take pictures throughout the short interview.

"I didn't think you had it in you," Draco said under his breath as we walked away.

"What?" I asked.

"You actually refrained from fouling up the image we've built up," he commented.

"Well, I thought I'd be politic," I returned, "but I'd quite like to stomp on your foot after that last comment."

He chuckled lightly.

"Complete lies," I muttered, shaking my head.

"Get used to the press, love," he said. "The Malfoy family is no stranger to it. And when your father is in power, it will be even worse for you."

"It's _if_ he's in power and don't call me 'love,'" I tore my arm from his.

"Arabella," he nearly growled, "you need to face the music. Your father has part control of Ministry already, it's not long before he has full control and the Dark Lord reigns supreme. Rita Skeeter didn't even flinch at the mention of Tom Riddle. And, whether you like it or not, you will be marrying me one day."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," I replied darkly.

But before we could continue our never-ending argument, the one we carried on almost biweekly, we followed his mother and father into Twifit and Tattings. The shop owner, a stout woman with rosy cheeks and brown hair pulled up in a fancy twist, dropped what she was doing to greet Narcissa, who was obviously one of her best customers.

"Arabella Riddle needs some dress robes," I heard Narcissa say to the owner, pointing a finger back towards me in a casual manner.

"Don't argue with her, it won't get you anywhere," Draco whispered in my ear from behind me when I opened my mouth to protest. I quickly shut my mouth.

"And what kind of dress robes are we looking for, today?" the owner turned to me to ask.

I hadn't a clue. Luckily, Narcissa had a ready-made answer.

"She needs a pair of black or white robes. There is a black and white ball next week we need to dress her for," she said to the woman, "Would you prefer black or white, Arabella?"

I hadn't a clue.

"Black, I think. It's classic."

"Perfect choice!" beamed the shopkeeper, as she bustled over to her yards of fabric. I was pretty sure she would have said the same thing if I'd said white.

After picking the fabric, taking my measurements, and sitting down with the woman to figure out a sketch, we were out the door again, walking down the lane toward another shop. Narcissa kept us moving all day, with only a short break for lunch at the cafe halfway down the lane. She had be buy a new necklace and earrings to go special with the black dress, we bought some beauty products at Maquilla's, a new purse at an accessories store, it seemed to go on and on. The only part I enjoyed particularly was watching Draco be tortured in the same manner I was at a specialty men's dress robe shop. It was the only time besides lunch I was allowed to sit down, and after suffering through all of the poking and prodding myself, it was beyond entertaining to watch someone do it to Draco.

"Think this is funny, do you?" he asked me as his pants were being pinned by some house elves.

"Actually, yes, I do!" I responded, since his parents were looking at vests and ties. "I've been tortured all day and now it's payback."

"It wasn't like I took pleasure in your pain," he scolded.

"Oh yes, you were chuckling at the house elves when I had to keep my arms in the air for fifteen minutes, weren't you?"

He opened his mouth a few times to answer, but couldn't.

"A-ha!" I pointed at him, "I finally managed to make Draco Malfoy speechless."

I giggled but beneath it I heard Draco say under his breath, "I'm speechless around you all the time, you just don't realize it."

Before I could be made too uncomfortable by this statement, his mother and father returned. Lucius began to talk to Draco as Narcissa took a seat beside me on the couch in the store.

"It's so good to see you two together," she whispered to me, smiling expectantly. "I do think you make a lovely couple."

I simply smiled at her, not knowing what to say, unable to tell her I didn't fancy her son at all.

"Draco has been smitten with you for so long, Arabella," she said, gazing adoringly at her son, "and he's not ever as happy as when he's with you."

"Really?" I said, surprised.

"Oh, yes, of course!" she responded. "Would you think otherwise?"

"Well," I said, deciding to reveal some truth, "we just fight so much."

"All couples squabble," Narcissa said.

"I suppose, it's just—" I broke off, not knowing what to say.

"He does love you," she said, "whatever you think of him, from your past or his, don't doubt that, please."

I looked at her seriously now.

"And he'd probably do anything for you if you asked him."

"Alright ladies," Lucius Malfoy interrupted our conversation. I looked at Draco at this point, he was pulling on his coat, placing his wand carefully in one of the inner pockets. Could a Death Eater be capable of love? Was Narcissa just saying this for Draco's sake? Or on my father's instruction? Or was it really a mother speaking lovingly about her son and the character she knew from bringing him up herself? Draco caught my eyes as he turned, his face lightened slightly in realization that I had been watching him. He strode over to me.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"You just have a peculiar expression on your face," he commented. "Did my mother say—"

"Oh, no," I said quickly. "Everything is fine. I was probably just off in space, thinking. You know me."

He nodded his head, taking my hand as we left the shop. From there, we returned to the hotel, the packages from our purchases were being sent straight to Malfoy Manor. I was happy to be apparating on my own, since I knew where we were going this time. We retired to our rooms for a break before we needed to get ready for dinner and the theater.

After Draco released the wards and checked the room, I was allowed to enter. I did so to find all of our things transferred from the room that had been broken in to to this one. I grabbed the novel I had brought and sat down on my bed, removing my shoes one by one.

"You should get a nap if you can," Draco suggested. "It will be a long evening with the play."

"That's probably a good idea," I responded. "I'm already exhausted."

I pulled back the covers of my bed, climbing in and settling down. I opened my book to read for a while, noticing that Draco had taken a seat by the window.

"Aren't you going to sleep a little too?"

"No, I'll be fine," he said, pulling out some parchment and a quill.

I read my book without really taking in a word. The scratching of his quill upon the parchment was distracting me, as well as the words Narcissa had said, running through my mind.

"Who are you writing to?" I asked.

"Your father."

"Are you telling him about the break in?"

"He already knows. My father sent word immediately," he commented.

"What are you writing him, then?"

"I'm giving a report of what you told me after the break in," he began.

"Harry's note?"

"Yes, and a report on your behavior today," he continued.

"Oh," I said, looking back at my book.

"It's a pleasant report today," he said in response to my silence, "So don't worry."

"Do you usually report on my behavior?"

"Yes."

"Oh," I said dumbly again. _Don't worry my foot._

"But I don't tell him what we talk about unless it's vital he knows," he said. "I figure our conversations can remain between us."

"What made you figure that?" I asked.

"Telling your father what we converse about is no way to win your trust," he said. "And I'd rather build a relationship with you that doesn't involve your father."

"Draco, we don't have a relationship."

"We may not have a quintessential romantic one—or perhaps a romantic one at all—" he corrected when he saw the look on my face, "but we do have one."

I couldn't argue with that. He got up from his chair after folding the piece of parchment into an envelope.

"I'll return shortly, I just need to use my father's owl to send this," he said, striding towards the door.

"Draco?" I asked when he returned. He looked at me. "How long have we been friends?"

He looked at me startled.

"Pardon?"

"How long have we been friends?" I repeated. "We weren't ever friends at school, and I didn't particularly like you after my father came back either. We were forced to spend every summer and Christmas break together from that summer on. But somewhere along the way we stopped hating each other and learned to get along. And at some point we learned to confide in one another, up to a point, of course, but we have. When did that happen?"

He came and sat on my bed.

"I never hated you, Arabella," he said softly. "I may have acted like it, but I didn't." He heaved a sigh. "I'm not sure when we became friends. I know that I loved you for a long time before it happened. And we still don't always get along now."

"But I know I can trust you," I supplied.

"You do?" he asked, skeptically.

"I don't like to admit it," I smiled, "but yeah."

His ice cold eyes melted slightly.

"I think it started sometime during our Sixth Year at Hogwarts," he said. "I confided in you as much as I could about my task that year. You were the only one I talked to about what was going on inside my head. And you were the only one who ever really listened to me. But the thing about you is," he cracked a smile and stroked his jaw, "you would never pass up the opportunity to help someone. So I didn't kid myself that you were doing it for me. It was just in your nature. I mean, you'd listen to Peeves if he needed an open ear. "

We both laughed.

"But you didn't trust me," he said sadly.

I opened my mouth to speak but he cut me off:

"And I hadn't given you a reason to," he xontinued, "with all of the comments I made about you and your friends at school. Even with the way I took for granted the fact that your father wanted us together after I learned who you were."

I looked down at the sheets.

"But I got a swift kick in the ass from my mother the summer after Sixth Year," he said. "And I realize then I'd been a complete buffoon...among other things. And then Seventh Year rolled around and Snape was in charge, so you were completely separated from all of your friends. I think that's when you decided you'd have to confide in me, just to stay sane."

"But you ended up being a better listener than I thought you'd be," I said, my voice soft like his.

"I think the first time I ever heard you reveal something personal about yourself was when I caught you out past hours in the Room of Requirement," he reminisced, "playing piano."

"I went there a lot that year."

"I remember hearing the music all the way down the seventh floor corridor," he continued, a smile spreading across his face. "I was ready to give a week's worth of detention scrubbing chamber pots to whichever little prick thought he could stay out past hours."

He chuckled at the thought.

"And then to find you, sitting at the piano bench, playing, completely undisturbed by my entrance."

"You didn't give me detention," I commented.

"No," he laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Oh?"

"No way," he said, "I'm pretty sure if I didn't get in trouble by Snape or your father for it, you'd hex me to kingdom come yourself."

I laughed.

"But I guess that was the start," he continued, "of our friendship, I mean. Of confiding in each other. Because whether or not we wanted it, we needed each other."

"I suppose so," I agreed. "And every once in a while after that you'd catch me at the piano, sometimes I'd be crying, sometimes laughing."

"And we'd talk."

"And we'd talk."

"About nothing."

"And almost everything," I reminded.

"But you never liked me," he said.

"You were a pompous, arrogant, self-centered young Death Eater who reports to my father of my actions," I pointed out. "Of course I didn't like you."

"And you still don't."

"No. I like you," I asserted. "Just not when you're being a pompous, arrogant, self-centered young Death Eater who reports to my father."

We both sort of chuckled, trying to keep the mood from going too sour.

"And Draco," I said, "I never hated you."

"I don't think you've ever hated anyone in your life, though," he commented.

I shrugged, "I suppose not."

We fell into a silence that was neither uncomfortable nor completely relaxed.

"You should get some sleep," he said, patting my knee before getting up from my bed. "Shall I wake you in an hour?"

"Oh," I said, a bit taken aback by the question, "yes, please."

He nodded before closing the curtains with a wave of his wand. I placed my book on the bedside table, snuggling down into the covers and closing my eyes. I felt Draco brush a kiss across my forehead and wish me sweet dreams before I let my exhaustion pull me into a pleasant slumber.

_AN: I was going to put the part where they go to the theatre in this chapter, but I want to give it more room, so you'll just have to wait. Thanks for reading. Please review! Xoxo!_


	18. Chapter 18: Facing Daddy Dearest

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—he, the other characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine!

**XVIII. Facing Daddy Dearest**

My nap didn't last nearly as long as I'd hoped. Draco tried every trick in the book to get me out of bed, until finally he had to whip the sheets from my body, forcing me to abandon my warm nest of a bed for a warm shower. Dinner was rather uneventful, as was the short walk to the theatre. I held onto Draco's arm when he requested it, half due to the conversations I'd had with him and his mother that day, half because I wasn't terribly comfortable with the crowds on the street and I didn't want to get separated.

We were escorted to a box in one of the side wings stage left of the theater. We had the box to ourselves, and we took our seats as the house elves took our coats. I leaned over the balcony to look at the people taking their seats below. The theater was ornately decorated, small gilded angels were carved in the corinthian columns and the floating chandelier held thousands of small red candles in the shape of flowers. I let my gaze fall down toward the boxes on stage right of the theater. My attention was suddenly drawn to a young woman with long, brown curly hair taking her seat in a box almost directly across from ours. She was accompanied by a witch wearing a long black dress and scarf over her head. I immediately scooted back in my seat so my back was flush against the backrest. I tried not to let my eyes wander back to the box as I saw Kingsley Shaklebolt and John Dawlish file in to a box beside them, taking their seats as well. Two members of the Order and two Aurors in boxes right beside each other at the same play on the same night as we decided to go out. It was so _not_ a coincidence. I didn't realize I was grasping the armrests to the chair so tightly my knuckles were white until Draco put his left hand of my right.

"You okay, there, love?" he asked.

"Peachy," I replied, forcing a smile.

I released my hands from their death grip on the armrests and took up my program, skimming through it. I cast short glances from beneath my lashes at the boxes across the way. I noticed Tonks let her gaze fall upon us at one point.

"Do you know who that witch is?" Lucius' voice drifted down from behind me.

"Pardon?" I asked, tilting my head back towards him.

"The witch with the curly hair and the violet eyes," he restated, "in the box nearly across from us. Do you know her?"

"No," I lied. "Why?"

"She looks oddly familiar," Draco replied. "Yes, I think we saw her in Diagon Alley yesterday. She knocked over a display outside a store. Do you remember Arabella?"

"No, I don't recall," I said nonchalantly.

"Shaklebolt and Dawlish are here," Lucius stated quietly behind me again.

"Don't worry, dear," Narcissa said to her husband, taking off her gloves and folding them in her lap. "There's no reason for them to start something."

"The witch with the scarf was at the restaurant last night as well," said Draco suddenly, turning in his seat to look at his father, a look of surprise on his face.

"Don't make any indication there's something amiss, Draco," his father hissed. Draco resumed a more casual position, but still looked at his father so as not to draw attention to his sudden movements.

"The witch with the brown hair, she has violet colored eyes."

"So did the witch in the bathroom at the restaurant last night," Narcissa said, her voice now laced with worry as well. They were putting two and two together.

"We're leaving," Lucius got up from his seat suddenly. "We've been tailed by the Order."

"Shouldn't we at least wait till intermission?" Narcissa said, a little frazzled, "We're drawing attention to ourselves."

"We're returning to Malfoy Manor immediately. Draco, fetch our cloaks," Lucius commanded. Draco hurriedly left the box. Lucius stepped down from the tier where he was sitting with Narcissa and stood behind me, blocking me from view of the others. He put one hand on my back, pushing me forward out the door of the box behind Narcissa. Draco met us halfway down the hall with our cloaks, which we put on in a flurry.

"Draco, apparate ahead and alert your master of our arrival. I will side-along with Arabella straight to the ballroom." With a pop, Draco was gone. "Narcissa, apparate to your parlor and send word with a house elf to the DragInn." She was gone in an instant as well. Without warning, Lucius put his hands on my upper arms, gripping them tightly and then I felt the squeeze as if we were being pushed through a tube. When the feeling was released we were in the ballroom of Malfoy Manor, but Lucius had not released me.

"It seems that all of our information over the past few days has been inaccurate," came the cold voice of my father from his chair on the dais. I could hear Nagini slithering around behind his chair, whipping her tongue out to taste the air. "No raid occurred. The Order is now tailing my daughter. You may release Arabella, Lucius, she's not running away."

"Of course, my Lord," Lucius replied. His hold on me released and he stepped forward to bow before my father.

"Draco tells me there were Order members at the play tonight," my father started. Lucius explained everything that had happened and the realization that had hit him when the features of the witch Tonks had disguised herself as had become obvious.

"It was a good epiphany to have, Lucius," my father said after the story was done. "Better that it came sooner rather than later. You may rise and take your place."

Lucius stood and strode to the side of the room where I noticed the rest of the Death Eaters had gathered and had formed a large arc encompassing the room in front of my father, successfully closing off the exit behind me.

"Arabella, my child, we have much to discuss."

"Yes, Father?" I gulped.

"You do not hide your fear well, little one," he said. "What distresses you so?"

_The fact that you kill without a second glance and might punish me for what Harry did._

"I'm just a little shaken up over our quick exit from the theater," I lied, hoping my thoughts didn't betray me.

"Oh? And this fear of yours would have nothing to do with a little message that was left for you when your hotel room was searched?"

"No."

"_Liar,_" he hissed at me in parseltongue. "_Don't you dare lie to your father, Arabella Riddle!"_

"Perhaps," I amended.

"And why would that worry you, my child?"

"Well, you don't exactly like my choice of friends, do you?" I said cheekily, before I could stop myself.

"You count these blood traitors and Mudbloods your friends?" he said, his voice silky smooth.

"Yes, Father," I said defiantly.

"They are not your friends, Arabella," he said. "Nor will they ever be."

I didn't answer that.

"What did the message in the journal say?"

"Didn't Draco already tell you that?" I asked.

"I asked you a question, little one, I expect an answer."

"It said, 'Forget something?'" I relented, "with a question mark at the end."

"And who wrote it?"

I didn't particularly like this game, the one in which my father pretended Draco hadn't already told him everything in order to question me, but I wasn't really in a position _not_ to play it.

"I believe it was Harry Potter, Father."

"You _believe_ it was Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"You don't _know_ that it was Harry Potter?"

"Well, I know some people who are great at forgery," I commented. "So there's really no way to know for sure if it was him unless I'd actually _seen_ him write it, which I did not."

"However, it was Harry Potter's penmanship?" the Dark Lord asked, almost rhetorically.

"Yes," I confirmed.

"And why did you not, as soon as you saw the message, notify Draco or Lucius?"

"Well, you're not exactly a fan of his are you?" I said off-handedly.

"_I do not tolerate cheek, young lady!"_ he hissed again so only we understood.

"I thought it a harmless message," I amended. I was making a lot of amendments tonight.

"How could a message from my greatest foe found in a room that should have been locked but had shown signs of being searched be harmless?"

"Well, nothing was missing, for one. And second of all, Harry would never do anything that would put my life in jeopardy. And lastly, there wasn't anything terribly important in that room but some jewelry and dress robes. So clearly it was just a message meant to remind me that everyone at the Order hadn't forgotten about me."

"If you _ever_ find _anything_ out of place or suspicious you are to report it _immediately_, do you understand me?" he said angrily.

"Yes, sir," I stated, thinking _Well, the locket was neither suspicious nor out of place, technically speaking._

"Did you recognize any of the Order members at the theater?" he questioned.

"No," I lied again. He looked at me suspiciously.

"Severus?" he called out towards the Death Eaters.

"Yes, my Lord?" I saw him step forward and kneel.

"Have you modified the Veritaserum?"

"I haven't found a way to modify it without fatally poisoning the drinker." I'd always been resistant to Veritaserum. The fake Moody had attempted to use it on me as well as Umbridge, both to discover that for some reason I was one of the few people alive who the potion didn't work on. It was scary to know that my father had instructed someone to find a way for the potion to work on people who were resistant to it. But I felt a little safer knowing it was Snape who'd been given the task, the man who had given Umbridge fake Veritaserum to question Harry in our Fifth Year, the man the Order had basically put in charge of my well-being while I was left in the care of my father.

I immediately put up every mental shield I could think of, knowing the next approach my father would take would be Legilimency. He would attack at the point in which I was most distracted since he'd been unable to enter my mind so far that evening, except for his ability to detect my lies. But then again, I'd never been a good liar in the first place.

"Who did you recognize in the theater, Arabella?" he asked again. "_Do not lie to me, little one."_

"Kingsley Shakelbolt and that other Auror, Dawlish is his name?" I replied honestly, but leaving out extra information.

"_Who else_," he continued to talk to me in parseltonuge.

"No one," I responded in English.

"_Crucio!_" the curse hit me before I could even blink. I hadn't expected my father to curse me when he'd so frequently warned against it to the other Death Eaters. I writhed in pain on the floor.

"_Legilimens_!" he used the opportunity of my pain to infiltrate my mind. There was the image of the curly haired witch in the alley and then again in the theater—then the blond one in the bathroom—then the image of Dung in the balaclava at the Hog's Head during the first DA meeting—then Harry in the Room of Requirement setting up the cushions to practice stunning—and then I was able to push him from my mind.

"Who is the girl with the violet-colored eyes?" he asked,

"I don't know," I panted, lifting myself from the floor. "Some girl in Diagon Alley who happened to be at the theater as well."

"What about in the bathroom?"

"Some other girl who asked me for moisturizer."

"_Stop lying to me! Crucio!"_

I screamed as the pain tore through my limbs. I writhed on the ground again, trying against all odds to close my mind, but before I knew it he was inside again. There was the conversation I had with the blond Tonks about Big Ben—Dung sitting behind Draco in the Leaky Cauldron—Tonks changing her nose at the dinner table as Ginny and Hermione giggled—

"So the Order has a Metamorphmagus, do they?" my father stood from his seat and stepped down from the dais.

I let out a sob at the realization that I'd blown a very useful cover of Tonks'.

"Who is the witch in the Leaky Cauldron?"

"I don't know!" I said again.

"_Crucio!" _I screamed and there were images of Dung in his balaclava—more of the D.A. meeting—Dung, not a woman this time, making a deal with the Weasley twins—

"So the witch in a balaclava is a wizard in disguise," my father said amused. "So we _did_ have some Order members tailing you the past two days. What did they want, Arabella?"

"Nothing," I sobbed.

"Arabella, you know where lying gets you," my father warned.

"They just told me that I had to stay where I was," I supplied. "That they couldn't rescue me or whatever."

"Is that all?"

"Yes," I gasped for air, the pain still lingering, "I swear it."

"No need to swear, my child," he said. I expected to see a triumphant grin on his face, but he was frowning slightly. "_I do not want to hurt you, but you cannot lie to me, little one," _ he said in parseltongue. He used his wand to help me to my feet, turning back to the dais. But before he completely turned away, something caught his eye. I followed his gaze, only to realize that while I had been tortured the locket had fallen loose. My hand shot to my neck, clasping the locket tightly.

"_What is that?"_ he hissed.

"_A locket," _I replied, not wanting any of the Death Eaters to hear this conversation either.

"_From...?" _ he asked, using a curse to tear my hand from the locket so he could see it. "_I've not seen it before."_

"_I've had it for years." _I explained, my hands now glued to my sides.

"Draco!" he called out, his voice harsh and angry, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of the locket.

"Yes, my Lord?" came his reply from the shadows.

"Step forward!" demanded my father. Draco moved to stand next to us. "Have you seen this before?" he pointed to the necklace around my neck.

"Yes, my Lord," he stated. I was doomed. "It's a locket Arabella used to wear everyday during her years at Hogwarts. I believe it was a gift from Potter."

"A gift from Potter?" my father rounded on me.

"Actually, from Harry, Ron and Hermione together," I corrected daringly.

"_You dare wear this?" _he yelled at me in parseltongue, before ripping it from my neck, breaking the chain. "_Crucio!" _ I fell to the ground again, writhing in pain. He didn't try to enter my mind, but he let the torture continue. "_Is this what you '_forgot'?_ Is this what Harry Potter left you when he searched the room?"_ I couldn't answer for the pain. He flung me across the room with a simple wave of his wand. I nearly crashed into the line of Death Eaters, but they didn't make a sound and they didn't dare move. "_Crucio!"_

"Yes, yes, he left it!" I screamed. Anything to get the pain to stop. "Please don't! Please stop!" Anything to make him release the curse. "I'm sorry. Please!" But he didn't hear it. I thought I would go insane. I even thought I heard a Death Eater step forward to try to stop my father. He, too, was met with the Cruciatus Curse.

"Daddy please!" I finally screamed. The curse was released and the room went deadly silent. I lay on the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks, fire coursing through my body.

"_Oh, my baby girl_," I thought I heard my father coo in parselmouth in a hushed tone. I felt a hand on my forehead and suddenly a cooling sensation spread through my body to lessen the pain. "_Forgive me, Ann Marie."_ And then all went black.

I don't know how long I'd been asleep. But when I awoke it was dark outside and the only noise in the room was the ticking of a clock somewhere nearby. I tried to move, but my limbs were heavy as lead. I turned my head to see Draco sitting in a rocking chair by my bed, his head leaned back, asleep.

"I thought you'd wake soon," I heard a voice in the darkness. I moved my eyes to the end of my bed. Standing there was Severus Snape, his arms crossed in front of him, his cloak hanging loosely at his sides in its usual fashion.

"What happened?" I croaked out. My voice was hoarse. Severus whipped out his wand and levitated the glass of water on the bed stand to me, helping me take a sip of water. "Thanks."

"Your father lost his temper with you, as he so often does with us," Snape began. "I believe he forgot for a moment that you were his daughter and not one of his Death Eaters. What do you remember?"

"Pain," I said. "The Cruciatus Curse."

"Yes, your final supplication was 'Daddy, please,'" he continued. "I think that reminded him sufficiently of what he was doing. He immediately released the curse and began a charm that would relieve the burning pain from the curse. He's had me keep you in a dreamless sleep for the past three days to ensure your mind and body heal completely and the curse leaves no lasting damage."

"Three days!" I exclaimed as much as my weak voice could.

"Yes. Your father has been..." Snape searched for the right word, "concerned. He promised your mother that he would never let harm come to a child of theirs. And he caught himself the one harming you."

"Did he love my mother?" I asked, suddenly.

"I don't think the Dark Lord is capable of love," he whispered lightly. "But he was mesmerized by your mother's beauty, superior intelligence and sharp whit. Even thus, this is hardly the place for such a conversation."

I nodded my head solemnly, taking another sip of the water that was still hovering near my head. I looked at Draco who was still asleep in his chair.

"He's not left your side for three days," Snape said. I tore my gaze from the sleeping blond figure. "He tried to stop the Dark Lord from torturing you to the point of insanity, and paid for it."

So Draco was the Death Eater who had stepped forward.

"Is he okay?"

"Fine," replied Snape, "he didn't get the dose of it you received."

"He's been sleeping in the chair for three nights?" I asked, worried.

"He's hardly slept. This is the first time he's dozed off for more than an hour."

I lifted my heavy hand to my face, rubbing my forehead in exasperation. I couldn't believe that Draco would step into the line of fire when my father was angry. I also couldn't believe that he would sit by my bed for three days and three nights without rest. Especially if he knew I'd just be sleeping under the effects of one of Snape's potions.

"How are you feeling?" Snape interrupted my thoughts.

"Tired. Like my limbs are lead," I said miserably.

"To be expected after taking a sleeping potion to keep you asleep for three days," he said with smirk. "How's your head?"

"Throbbing," I answered. "What's with the twenty questions?"

"We don't really have a healer here, and we weren't going to be able to take you to St. Mungo's without a fuss over what happened. So I, as an expert potions maker, am the next best thing."

"Oh," I said dumbly.

"I can give you something for your head if you like," he said, "or you can try to sleep it off."

"I feel like I should refrain from sleeping since I've already wasted three days," I said, "but I'm disinclined to take more potion."

"Are you hungry?"

"No," I said.

"Well, I'm going to have Trinky send up a tray anyway. You should try and eat something."

I sort of scowled. Snape ignored me, letting the water return to its place on the night stand.

"If you need anything, wake Draco and he can summon me, or ask a house elf."

I nodded. "Thank you," I called after him.

He stopped in the door frame, looking like he was going to say something, but he just nodded and then was gone.

I heaved a great sigh, looking at Draco, who seemed to have slept through the entire conversation. _Light sleeper, my ass_, I thought back to our conversation at the hotel. I pulled back the covers from the bed and stepped barefoot onto the cold floor of my room. I tiptoed quietly toward the restroom.

When I exited a few moments later, Draco was standing, hands in his pockets, leaning against the bedpost.

"I'm sorry I woke you," I said to him, as I headed towards the bed again. "Snape mentioned you hadn't slept in quite some time."

Draco didn't answer. His gaze followed me as I crept around him and climbed into bed. He helped me replace the covers and then sat down in the rocking chair again. I sent him a weary smile he didn't return.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Tired. Heavy-limbed," I answered.

"And your head?"

"How does everyone know to ask me about my head?" I asked in an exclamatory manner.

"How is your head?" he asked again, his voice and countenance unchanged.

"Throbbing, why?" I answered tersely.

"If there was no pain it would indicate the Cruciatus Curse didn't damage your brain. It was good that we kept you asleep for three days."

"Is my mind damaged?"

"Well, obviously not completely if you're awake and talking normally," he said. "But the real test will come in performing magic. We'll test it by having you cast your patronus. If you can't then there's been serious damage that only a healer can fix, if it can be fixed at all. If it's changed, then you've had damage that may or may not heal on its own, but you'll never be the same. If it's the same, you're just fine."

"Fabulous," I said bitterly. "Where's my wand?"

"Your father has it."

"Well, then how am I to test my brain damage?" I asked. I suppressed the desire to laugh at the question. It was an odd one to find myself asking.

"We'll wait until the pain has subsided to check. That way you don't over-exert yourself."

"And when will that be?"

"When the pain in your head is gone," he said slowly, as if I were losing my mind.

"Well, _obviously_," I retorted sharply, "but how long will that take?"

He shrugged, "No one knows."

I heaved another sigh, as a tray appeared on the table by the fire. Draco rose and brought it to me, setting it lightly on my lap. The tray held some buttered toast, some vanilla pudding, a few slices of apple and a cup of chamomile tea. I ignored the tray, slightly repulsed by the smell of the buttered toast. I looked at Draco who was looking down at his feet, his elbows on his knees.

"Why did you lie to me?" asked Draco quietly.

I didn't answer.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked again, looking up at me.

I didn't know _how_ to answer. I couldn't ask him to be more specific about which lie, because that would indicate I'd been lying to him about a lot of things, an admission I wasn't prepared to make.

"Why didn't you tell me about the locket? Or the Order members?"

"Because you would have told my father," I answered.

"He found out anyway," Draco reasoned.

"Yes, but I had a better chance of hiding it from him by not telling you than by telling you."

"A good lot that did you," he snorted.

I resisted the urge to slap him.

"You could have saved yourself a whole lot of trouble by just being honest with me," said Draco after a few moments of silence.

I looked away from him and back at my tray.

"Bella, I asked you straightforwardly and you lied to me!" His voice was quiet, but his tone was frustrated and upset. He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. "And then you went and told me you trust me! What rubbish!"

"I _do_ trust you, Draco," I said.

"Just shut it!" he exclaimed. "I don't need your lies or your pity."

"I'm not lying, and I don't pity you. You've made perfectly clear that you can make your own damn decisions. So I don't pity you for what they are," I said darkly. "And don't go acting all high and mighty like you tell me everything, because you don't."

"That's different!"

"How? How is that different?"

"Your father forbids me to talk of some things," he said.

"Well, Dumbledore and Harry forbid me to talk of some things, too," came my reply.

"Well, Dumbledore's dead and your dear _Potter_ isn't here," Draco snapped at me.

I didn't speak. His eyes were ice cold, boring a hole in the side of my head as I looked away from him at my tray again.

"And I defended you," he said, "I've defended you to the other Death Eaters, to Pansy, heck, I even stepped up for you when your father was torturing you!"

"Oh yes, your precious _Pansy_," I cried, "she can do no wrong."

"I never said that," he spat. "This isn't about her. I won't keep protecting you if you lie to me!"

"Well, I never asked you to defend me! I can take care of myself."

"Obviously not, seeing as you're bedridden," he said, his voice increasing in volume.

"If you hadn't told my father about the note, I wouldn't be!"

"If you'd told me about the locket and the Order you wouldn't be!" he roared at me. "You can't lie to me, Arabella!"

Suddenly the door slammed open, "Draco Malfoy!" Snape boomed from the doorway, "That is enough! You do not yell," he let his voice return to normal, "at someone who is recovering as Arabella is."

Draco scowled at Snape and then swept out of the room, bumping Snape's shoulder on his way out the door. Snape looked at me from the doorway. "You should eat something and get some rest."

I nodded but didn't respond. He waited watching, and I took a small nibble of my toast to appease him before he nodded approvingly and shut the door quietly behind himself. I threw the toast down in disgust, but took a sip of my chamomile tea, which was still hot, though it'd been sitting there for quite some time. I was convinced Draco and I would never see eye to eye. We would never be willing to tell each other everything. We were on different sides of the war. And as much as he preached that he loved me, I didn't believe it. He wouldn't treat me like that, he wouldn't yell at me, he wouldn't keep me from the ones I love if he truly loved me. Hadn't it been said, "If you love someone,

set her free, if she comes back, she's yours; if she doesn't, she never was?" He knew I'd never return, though, and the wrath of my father would be enough to deter him from considering it.

But the words his mother had said to me three days before and the angry words he'd said to me just previously caused a large knot to tie itself deep in my stomach. Was he, as his mother had indicated, deeply smitten with me? Could his behavior indicate that love instead of the darkness I attributed to his Death Eater nature? Could he possibly want complete honesty between us? But how much would be kept private? Meaning, away from my father. Would he have kept the locket private if I'd told him? I shook the thoughts from my mind and snuggled back into my bed, taking another sip of my tea. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, not really wanting to fall asleep. I cleared my mind, not wanting to think any more about Draco or my father...or the fact that my locket was now lost forever.

There was a soft knock on the door, and I expected the knocker to just enter without my call, the way everyone did around here.

"Come in!" I called skeptically when no one entered.

"You _are_ awake," came Narcissa's soft voice when I looked up. She quietly stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. "How are you feeling?"

For the third time, "Tired. Lead-limbed."

"And your hea—"

"My head is throbbing," I interrupted rudely. "Sorry, it's just, everyone keeps asking."

"We've been worried," she supplied as an explanation. She sat down on the side of my bed, and put her hand on my head in a motherly fashion, brushing the hair from my face. "You haven't eaten," she looked at my tray.

"I'm not terribly hungry," I admitted.

"You should try to eat something," she said.

"That's what Professor Snape said," I commented.

"He's not your professor anymore, Arabella," she said softly.

"Oh, yes," I said. "It just seems odd _not_ to call him 'Professor.'"

She smiled sweetly in understanding, before looking at my tray pointedly.

I sighed, picking up the toast I'd discarded. I took a bite and then smiled, close-lipped, with my mouth full.

"Good, girl," Narcissa patted my hand. "We just want you back on your feet as soon as possible."

She stayed until I'd eaten the entire piece of toast and had a few bites of pudding. I let her know I'd like some sleep and she took my tray for me. She stopped in the doorway before leaving, "If you need anything, just let one of us know."

"Thank you, Narcissa."

She nodded and left, leaving me in peace again.

I slept until the next afternoon, waking to find my limbs were considerably lighter and my head was no longer throbbing. My stomach growled and I called for Trinky, who brought me a tray of plain noodles in broth and toast again.

"What about scrambled eggs or a ham sandwich?" I asked, starved.

"Master Snape instructed Trinky to only feed you white foods, easy on Mistress Arabella's stomach," Trinky said sadly, obviously afraid of disappointing me.

"Okay, Trinky," I said, smiling at the house elf, afraid she'd burst into tears, "thank you very much."

Trinky made a low bow, her nose brushing the ground and exited with a loud pop.

Snape came in to check on me, happy to hear my head was better and my stomach was handling the food easily. I tried to ask him about Draco, but he simply mumbled something about him being busy reading in his father's private library. I wasn't supposed to get out of bed for another day, so I spent the rest of the day reading and writing in my new journal, which had appeared while I'd slept. Later that evening, after I'd eaten more toast, cheese and vanilla pudding, my father came to visit. He was accompanied by Snape and Lucius Malfoy. Snape bore a tray of three different potions, all looking more gruesome than the next.

"How are you feeling?" My father asked, kissing my forehead as if he'd not tortured me at all.

I nearly screamed. I was so sick of hearing that phrase I wanted to perform the Muffliato spell on myself, just so I didn't have to hear it again.

"Better," I replied warily.

"Your head?" Snape asked from behind my father.

"Feels normal," I replied.

"Good," my father replied. "We'd like you to cast your patronus." He pulled my wand from his sleeve, holding it out to me in a graceful manner.

I took the piece of polished wood from him, slightly frightened. I didn't like the fact that I had an audience, I liked even less that the state of my patronus would reveal the damage done to my mind. I looked into each of the faces of the men in the room. Each held a placid expression on their face, as if what they were asking of me was just to take a sip of water.

"Go ahead, Arabella," my father urged me.

I took a deep breath, lifting my wand, thinking of Harry, Ron, Hermione and I all drenched from the lake on that day in Fourth Year that had appeared as a picture in my locket, "_Expecto Patronum."_

From my wand emitted a small white figure, smaller than some patronuses, but large for a dragonfly. I heard a sigh of relief from someone in the room as I directed my very familiar patronus out the door, a smile of relief spread across my face.

Down the hall, in his room, Draco sat in a chair by the window, reading. The small silver figure of a dragonfly flew in through his door without welcome. It fluttered to him, caressing his hand before whispering lightly in his ear, "_I was wrong not to tell you, please forgive me."_

_AN: Here's another chapter! Please review! _

_THANK YOU!_


	19. Chapter 19: Double Flashback, 4th Year

_AN: Flashback time! Here's an explanation to the pic in the locket and to when Draco fell in love with Bella. But not in that order._

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—he, the other characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine! IMPORTANT: This chapter contains information straight from JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire pages 410-423, 487-508 though it does have some noticeable changes.

**XIX. Double Flashback—Fourth Year**

Christmas dawned more beautiful than I could ever imagine. The sky was blue and the snow that had fallen in the night was completely untouched. After opening our gifts, Hermione and I went down to the Gryffindor Common Room to wait for the boys so we could all go to breakfast. We weren't surprised to find we were the first ones up and out, so we sat quietly in front of the fire. I flung my legs over the armrest of one of the plush chairs, resting my head on the other armrest. Hermione sat in the plush seat across from me, her legs tucked underneath her. We both contently pulled out the books we'd just received (from each other) for Christmas, and spent the early morning reading.

We ate breakfast with Harry and Ron, returning to Gryffindor tower to relax with the rest of the house for the remainder of the morning. In the afternoon we went outside to play in the snow. Hermione watched as Harry, the Weasleys and I held an elaborate snowball fight.

"Bella!" she cried my name about five o'clock. "We should probably go get ready."

"What, you need three hours?" said Ron, looking at us incredulously, and paying for his lapse in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by George, hit him hard on the side of the head. We didn't answer him, but instead linked arms in confidence and headed back towards the castle. "Who're you going with?" he yelled after Hermione, but she just waved away his question as we disappeared up the stone steps.

"Will he never learn?" I shook my head at Ron as we entered the warm entrance hall of Hogwarts and pulled off our scarves.

"No," Hermione said bitterly.

"Well, he'll get the surprise of his life when he sees you with Krum!" I whispered the last word, not wanting to draw attention to us. Hermione smiled. I'd successfully made her forget about Ron being a prick.

When we arrived back at Gryffindor Tower, we weren't the only girls there getting ready early. We both took long, hot, steamy showers, getting out and wrapping ourselves into nice warm robes. I spent the better part of an hour using Sleekeazy's Hair Potion to sleek back Hermione's hair into a knot, pinning it at the crown of her head. I then spent another half hour curling my long hair into small ringlets, pinning some onto my head, but letting some cascade down my back. Hermione and I applied our make up and helped each other into our dress robes. Her robes were made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, mine was a deep crimson silky material. Hermione had to head down earlier to meet Krum at the entrance hall, so I went to check in on Ginny. She had already pulled on her light green dress robes, and was anxiously tapping her foot, ready to go meet her date, Michael Corner of Ravenclaw.

At a ten to eight she left to go down and meet Michael and I was forced to go back to my room and wait. I checked myself in the mirror one more time, tucked my wand in an inner hidden pocket of my dress robes and reluctantly pulled on my heels. A few minutes before eight, I descended the stairs to see all five of the boys in my year waiting. Parvati was by Harry's side, Lavender was with Seamus.

"Hello, Neville," I greeted my date with a smile. I'd been pleased when Neville had asked me to the Yule Ball. I'd laughed to know that he'd not told Harry nor Ron, since they'd both asked me last minute as well as Hermione, to our great indignation.

"You look...amazing," he said.

"Thanks," I laughed, "You clean up nice, yourself."

"Wait, wait wait," Ron said, stepping forward. "_Neville_ is your date?"

"Yes, Ron, he is," I said, a huge smile on my face. Ron couldn't seem to find anything to say, since his mouth sort of opened and closed silently, making him look like a fish. Harry just shrugged as I headed out the portrait hole with Neville.

We went down to the great hall together, where Ron met up with Padma. I tried to see over many of the heads to catch a glimpse of Hermione, to no avail. She'd not arrived yet. I wanted to be sure to get a glance at Ron's face when he spotted her with Krum, it was sure to be a laugh. We saw Draco Malfoy with Pansy Parkinson on her arm come up from the dungeons looking much like a vicar with a high-collared set of dress robes. Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him and his date, both in green dress robes, looking like moss-colored boulders. Draco stopped where he stood when he saw me walking carefully down the stairs on Neville's arm. His usual sneer was absent form his features, and his eyes seemed to widen. Pansy finally pulled him from his reverie with a squeal for attention and his sneer was hastily replaced on his face.

The oak front doors opened, and we all turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, Hermione looked gorgeous accompanying him. No one seemed to recognize her.

"Look, Neville," I pointed. "Hermione!"

"Wow, she looks incredible," he said, his mouth slightly open.

"I know! Doesn't she?" I nearly squealed like Lavender and Parvati.

"Champions over here, please!" Professor McGonagall finally called. She was dressed in robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat. She was muttering words of instruction to the champions, who were waiting just outside the doors. The rest of us were ushered inside. I noticed Parvati eyeing Hermione with a look of unflattering disbelief and caught the look of deepest loathing Pansy Parkinson had plastered on her face as she and, a surprisingly mute Draco, entered the Great Hall. My insides swelled in excitement for her. I was sorely disappointed when Ron walked right past her without even recognizing her. But there was still time for sweet revenge on her part towards Ron.

The Great Hall had been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people. Neville and I sat with the other Gryffindors from our year as well as Ginny and Michael. After the Hall had filled and everyone had found a seat, McGonagall entered with the champions trailing behind her in a line of pairs. We all applauded them as they were seated at a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were seated.

Ron peered sharply at Hermione as she drew nearer to the table, finally turning a deep shade of puce as he realized who she was. I burst out laughing in complete joy at the look on his face and the huge smile on Hermione's. Harry shot me a timid smile as he passed with Parvati, who was obviously enjoying herself, beaming with the attention and steering Harry clearly in the direction of the head table.

Our glittering gold plates were empty when we finally took our seats, but we caught on quickly when we saw the menus. We simply spoke our orders and the dish we requested appeared beautifully on our plates. We all began chattering in an excited manner. Neville could talk my ear off about Herbology for hours on end. Neville and I had been good friends since late in our First Year, and we enjoyed talking about nearly anything together, though we weren't nearly as close as I was to Harry. Ron seemed sulky and less-than-animated throughout dinner, completely ignoring poor Padma. I stole some glances at the head table to find Harry being accosted by Percy Weasley and Hermione in deep conversation with Krum. I sincerely hoped that they were both enjoying themselves as much as the other Gryffindors were here.

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. With a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls, leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it. With another wave, he conjured some smaller tables on the edges of the room so that people could sit and talk or rest while others danced.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments as all of the lanterns had gone out. All of the champions and their partners stood but Harry, who had obviously forgotten that they were to dance the first dance. Harry tripped on his dress robes standing up, but Hermione made it gracefully to her feet. She seemed to stand a little straighter and prouder than usual, perhaps due to the lack of her fifty kilo book bag. The champions made their way onto the brightly lit dance floor as The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune. Harry caught my gaze and gave a worried smile as he avoided the waves and sniggers of Dean and Seamus nearby (who I went behind and slapped upside their heads afterward). After a minute or so of music, more people began to join in. Neville and I, quite clumsily, danced the rest of the song together, as did Ginny and Michael. Dumbledore was waltzing with Madam Maxine, his pointed hat barely tickling her chin. Professor Moody was doing an extremely ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding the wooden leg.

Though Harry and Ron stopped dancing right after that song, Neville and I carried on, having a blast, making complete fools of ourselves and laughing loudly. We went over and sat down with them for a rest after a while. I slipped my shoes off to rest my feet while Neville went to get us drinks. Hermione came over and sat down in the chair that Parvati had left at the invitation of a Beauxbatons boy.

"Hi," said Harry, but Ron didn't say anything.

"It's hot, isn't it?" she said, fanning herself with her hand. "Victor's just gone to get some drinks."

"Are you having fun?" I asked her. She simply nodded at me across the boys, who weren't looking at her, smiling hugely with her now perfect teeth.

"We'll talk afterwards," she mouthed, so they wouldn't hear. I nodded and gave her the thumbs up.

"_Viktor_?" said Ron after a moment, giving Hermione a withering look. "Hasn't he asked you to call him _Vicky_ yet?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "What's up with you?" she said.

"If you don't know," said Ron scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you."

_Oh great, here we go_, I though, shooting Harry a look.

Hermione stared at him, then at Harry. Harry just shrugged at her.

"Ron, what – ?"

"He's from Durmstrang!" spat Ron. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You—you're – " Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, "_fraternizing with the enemy_, that's what you're doing!"

Hermione's mouth fell open in horror.

"Ron!" I scolded from behind him.

"Don't be stupid!" she said after a moment. "The _enemy_! Honestly—who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"

Ron chose to ignore this. "I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, the pink patches in her cheeks from dancing glowing more brightly. "So what?"

"What happened—trying to get him to join _spew,_were you?"

"Really, Ron, stop being ridiculous," I said in a hushed tone, but neither he nor Hermione took notice and Harry shot me a warning glance as if to tell me not to get involved.

"No, I wasn't! If you _really_ want to know, he—he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!"

Hermione said this very quickly, and blushed so deeply that she was the same color as Parvati's robes.

"Yeah, well—that's his story," said Ron nastily.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with...He's just trying to get closer to Harry—get inside information on him—or get near enough to jinx him – "

Hermione looked as though Ron had slapped her. I stood up, ready to intervene if she decided to do something she would later regret. When she spoke, her voice quivered.

"For your information, he hasn't asked me _one single thing_ about Harry, not one – "

Ron changed track at the speed of light.

"Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cozy little library sessions – "

"I'd _never_ help him work out the egg!" said Hermione, looking outraged. "_Never._ How could you say something like that – I want Harry to win the tournament, Harry knows that, don't you, Harry?"

"You've got a funny way of showing it," sneered Ron.

"Ronald Weasely, that is enough!" I looked down at him as if he'd grown two heads. He was being ridiculously nasty and only because he was jealous.

"This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!" said Hermione hotly.

"Not it isn't!" shouted Ron. "It's about winning!"

People were staring at Ron and Hermione now, and I slowly sank back into my seat, knowing there was nothing I could say.

"Ron," said Harry quietly, "I haven't got a problem with Hermione coming with Krum—"

Ron ignored Harry as well.

"Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are," said Ron.

"_Don't call him Vicky!"_

Hermione stormed across the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd. Ron watched her go with a mixture of anger and satisfaction on his face.

"Oh, you've really done it this time, Ronald," I shook my head at him before heading after Hermione, leaving my shoes behind me.

I rushed through the crowd, catching up with her on the other side of the dance floor. "Hermione, wait up!" she turned, on the verge of tears. I enveloped her in a hug, "Don't let a prick like Ron ruin your evening just because he's jealous Krum asked you out before he had the good sense to ask you out for himself."

She gave a quiet sob into her hands against my shoulder.

"He's just a foul, loathsome, evil, little...cockroach," I finished the insult she'd started for Malfoy last year. I backed out of the hug, trying to see her face as I said this.

She laughed, looking up with a smile. "You're right."

"Of course I am!" I teased, acting smug.

"Just because Viktor asked me out, even though I'm not beautiful like the other girls, doesn't mean that he's trying to use me to win," she said, wiping the tears off her face.

"And you _are_ beautiful, Hermione. And Krum can obviously see how intelligent, talented and fun you are, too! Just because Ron's blind, doesn't mean all men are."

She nodded and hugged me again. "Thanks, Bella."

"Anytime, sweetie!"

"I should go find Viktor," she said.

"Yes, and have fun!" I smiled at her. "Especially to spite that bitter little redhead we know."

She nodded and took off around the edge of the dance floor.

I attempted to weave my way through the crowd again, unable to find Neville anywhere. When I reached the table where we'd been sitting before, Ron and Harry were gone, and so were my shoes, sadly. I gave an exasperated sigh and headed out into the Entrance Hall in hopes of finding someone. The Entrance Hall was clear. The door onto the grounds was open, revealing hundreds of actual living fairies sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer. I saw no one nearby and wasn't about to venture into the snow without shoes so I returned to the Great Hall.

"Stupid Bella, taking your shoes off and leaving them behind," I muttered to myself, looking around near the tables closest to the entrance hall as I approached our table again. But before I reached it, I felt a sharp pain in my right foot, and I leapt back slightly, tears already streaming down my face. I lifted the bottom of my foot to see blood trickling down quite rapidly and a shard of glass lodged in the bottom of my foot.

"Looking for these?" came a drawling voice from ahead of me. I looked up to see Draco Malfoy leaning against the table under which I had placed my shoes. In his right hand he dangled my shoes from his pointer finger.

"Yeah, actually I was," I said angrily, swallowing my tears and hopping as gracefully as I could toward the table. "And thanks to your ill-timed thievery I'm now bleeding from the foot."

He looked down at the little trail of blood drops I'd left behind.

"What's going on here?" came the voice of Professor McGonagall from behind me. "Who's bleeding?"

"I am, Professor," I turned to look at her, indicating my foot.

"Goodness, gracious, Miss Bella," she said, looking from me, to my foot, to the shoes in Draco's hand. "And what are you doing with Miss Bella's shoes, Mr. Malfoy?"

He let his arm fall to his side, fishing for an answer.

"Well, no matter now, we need to get you to the hospital wing," Professor McGonagall said to me. "Mr. Malfoy please take Miss Bella there while I find Madame Pomfrey and let her know she is needed."

I glared at Malfoy, shaking my head. "Good job, smart ass," I said.

"Now, now," he said, smirking evilly, "don't go insulting the man who will be helping you to the hospital wing."

"Man? What man?" I asked. "All I see is a thieving ferret." I began to hop towards the door on one foot. I'd nearly passed the first table, when I lost my balance, toppling over. Before I fell, Malfoy had grabbed my arm and pulled me back to balance.

"Whoa, there, turbo, I'm supposed to help you, like McGonagall said."

"Since when did you care?" I asked seriously, but with no bitterness in my voice.

He just looked at me, grabbing my left arm with his left, placing his right around my waist to help me hop towards the door. About halfway there I nearly tripped over some streamers.

"This is ridiculous," Malfoy finally said. Before I knew it he'd moved his left arm under my knees and pulled me up off my feet, forcing me to put my arms around his neck to steady myself. "Just don't bleed on me, okay?" he sneered, but it was half-hearted.

"Look, you don't need to carry me, I can make it just fine," I insisted, but he was already out the door of the Great Hall. As he reached the stairs leading out of the entrance hall a familiar voice yelled, "Oi! What do you think you're doing?" I looked over Draco's shoulder to see familiar faces. Ron was bright red in the face again, he and Harry had just come in from outside. The look on Harry's face suddenly made me feel guilty, though I knew I'd done nothing wrong. Malfoy turned around very slowly, an unpleasant smirk set on his face.

"I believe I'm taking Miss No Name to the Hospital Wing on Professor McGonagall's orders," Malfoy said.

"What happened, Bella?" Harry asked me.

"She stepped on some glass, and she should probably go get it removed from her foot before she bleeds all over the entrance hall," Malfoy answered smugly.

"I think that I asked _Bella_, Ferret-Boy," Harry glared at him. "And you can put her down, I'll take 'er to the Hospital Wing."

"I think I had it under control until you walked in," Malfoy drawled.

"Alright, boys," I interrupted. "Let's not start a fight. My foot hurts, and I don't really care how I get there, I just want to get to the Hospital Wing. Preferably before next week."

"Put her down, Malfoy," Ron stepped forward.

"Don't trust me to get her there safely, Weasel?"

"No, no I don't," Ron said.

"Is that a challenge?"

"I think it is," Ron replied, stepping up.

"Okay, enough!" I yelled. "Malfoy, put me down, Harry can take me to the Hospital Wing. Ron don't forget I'm still between you and Malfoy, so don't do anything rash."

"You don't need them to defend your honor," he drawled.

"I don't need you to do it either," I replied, and then added, "Not that you would."

"Mr. Malfoy, I thought I told you to take Miss Bella to the Hospital Wing," Professor McGonagall strode toward us, Madame Pomfrey bustling behind her.

"Yes, Professor, Potter and Weasley decided to question my ability to carry out that request," Malfoy smirked.

"Yes, well, I'm sure they were just worried about their friend, but you are still dripping blood," and she waved her wand to scourgify the ground where blood had leaked from my foot. "Mr. Potter, perhaps you should take Miss Bella the rest of the way, that way you can get her back to Gryffindor Tower afterwards. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Malfoy."

Harry and Ron had the most smug looks on their faces as Malfoy put me down on my good foot. He shoved my shoes into Ron's chest as Harry picked me up and carried me to the Hospital Wing. I wrapped my arms around his neck his neck and rested my forehead on his shoulder.

"That really wasn't necessary," I whispered to him so Madame Pomfrey couldn't overhear from behind us.

"What happened?" he asked, ignoring my previous comment.

"I think he took my shoes as a prank. When I went back for them after talking to Hermione, they weren't at the table. I went looking for you or Neville or someone, but couldn't find anyone. I stepped on some broken glass on my way back to the table."

"I bet he set you up, broke the glass and everything."

"Well, the glass wasn't there when I left, but I doubt Malfoy would purposefully—I mean he has no reason to—" I broke off, not really knowing what to think about the situation. He had been quite willing to carry me to the Hospital Wing...

Harry looked down at me with a pointed look.

"Come on, Harry, we're talking about Malfoy, here," I said.

"Exactly, Bells," Harry said, stepping aside at the door to the Hospital Wing so Madame Pomfrey could open it. "So be careful."

The evening of the Second Task had loomed much closer than any of us had expected. So close that Harry, Ron, Hermione and I spent the entire day in the library looking up how to breathe under water. When Fred and George interrupted us and took Hermione and Ron away, Harry looked at me grimly.

"Could McGonagall be telling them off for helping me?" he asked, pouring over another book.

"I don't think so, otherwise I would've been summoned too, right?" I asked.

"I suppose so," he muttered. "It's just strange that she wanted them. I wonder what for."

"I don't know, Harry, but we better keep searching," I ripped another book from the shelf, opening it to the index.

By eight o'clock, Madame Pince had extinguished all the lamps and came to chivvy Harry and I out of the library. We both checked out an enormous load of books, and staggered up to Gryffindor Tower with them in our arms. We took over an entire table in the corner, and continued to search. None of the books held any information. It was a first.

Crookshanks came and curled into my lap at one point. The common room slowly emptied out, leaving Harry and I as the only ones left. People continue to wish him luck for the next morning in cheery, confident voices, all convinced he'd pull off another stunning performance. I could see the worried look on his face ingrain itself deeper and deeper as each person said good night.

"Don't worry, Harry," I said, patting him on the hand, "We'll figure something out. We always do."

He nodded, forcing a smile. After a little more searching, Harry stood up. "I'm going to the library," he announced, "I'll go grab my invisibility cloak."

"I'll come with you," I said, standing and putting Crookshanks on the ground.

"You don't have—"

"I'm coming with you." He smiled at me gratefully.

I don't know how we'd fallen asleep, but thankfully Dobby came the next morning and poked Harry awake, waking me too.

"Harry Potter needs to hurry!" he squeaked. "The second task starts in ten minutes, and Harry Potter –"

"Ten minutes?" Harry and I exclaimed at the same time.

"Ten – _ten minutes?_" he croaked.

"Oh no!" I sat back down in my chair, my hand on my forehead.

"Hurry, Harry Potter!" came Dobby's squeak again, "You is supposed to be down by the lake with the other champions, sir!"

"It's too late, Dobby," Harry said hopelessly. "I'm not doing the task, I don't know how— "

"Harry Potter _will_ do the task!" squeaked the elf. "Dobby knew Harry had not found the right book, so Dobby did it for him!"

"What?" said Harry. "But _you_ don't know what the second task is—"

"Dobby knows, sir! Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy—"

"Find my what?"

" – and take his Wheezy back from the merpeople!"

"Dobby, what's a Wheezy?" I asked the little elf, who was tugging at Harry's sleeve.

"Wheezy, Wheezy who is giving Dobby his sweater!"

Dobby plucked at the shrunken maroon sweater he was now wearing over his shorts.

"_What?" _Harry gasped. "They've got...they've got _Ron?" _He looked at me his eyes wide.

"The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!" squeaked Dobby. "_But past the hour—" _

_ " –the prospect's black,"_ Harry and I recited together, looking at each other with fear.

_ "Too late, it's gone, it won't come back._" he finished grimly. "Dobby—what've I got to do?"

"You has to eat this, sir!" squeaked the elf, and he put his hand in the pocket of his shorts and drew out a ball of what looked like slimy, grayish-green rat tails. "Right before you go into the lake, sir—gillyweed!"

"What's it do?" said Harry, staring at the gillyweed.

"It will make Harry Potter breathe underwater, sir!"

"Dobby," said Harry frantically, "listen—are you sure about this?"

"Dobby is quite sure, sir!" piped up the little elf earnestly. "Dobby hears things, sir, he is a house-elf, he goes all over the castle as he lights the fires and mops the floors. Dobby heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Moody in the staff room, talking about the next task...Dobby cannot let Harry Potter lose his Wheezy!"

"Oh my gosh!" I put my hand to my forehead, slapping myself lightly. "Neville mentioned it when he was talking about his new book on plants in the Mediterranean. I'm so sorry I didn't pay more attention!"

Harry's doubts must have vanished because he grabbed the gillyweed, reaching for his bag.

"No, I'll get the cloak and the bag, Harry, just get to the task!" I said to him, taking his bag. He tore out of the library, waving a hand of thanks. I ran after him, stuffing the cloak in the bag.

"Dobby is supposed to be in the kitchens, sir!" Dobby squealed as we burst into the corridor. "Dobby will be missed—good luck, Harry Potter, sir, good luck!"

"See you later, Dobby!" Harry shouted behind him, and he sprinted along the corridor and down the stairs, three at a time. I decided to take one at a time, just because of the number of times I'd fallen down the stairs on accident already since First Year.

There were a few last-minute stragglers in the entrance hall, many were muttering bitterly about nearly being bowled-over by Harry. I ran past, nearly as quickly, muttering "excuse me"s and "coming through"s. The seats that had encircled the dragons' enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were packed to the bursting point and reflected in the lake below. I found a seat in the stands, near the front, between Neville and Luna just as Harry was catching his breath from his dead-end sprint to the task, bent over near the other champions on the dock in the middle of the lake.

"What happened?" Neville whispered in my ear from above me. He always made me feel really short if I wasn't wearing heels when I was standing next to him.

"We fell asleep in the library," I whispered back. "Looking for information for the task today," I explained more thoroughly when he gave me a strange look.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle," came Bagman's booming voice across the dark water towards the stands. "They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One...two..._three!_"

The whistled echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"I think they're what's been taken," I muttered, clapping my hands as well. I watched as Harry pulled off his shoes and socks, pulled the handful of gillyweed out of his pocket, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed. "I think Ron was taken for Harry to rescue, and Hermione for Krum. That would explain why they both disappeared last night when McGonagall summoned them."

"Wow," came Neville's reply, "I hope they're alright."

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore knows what he's doing," I responded. "The safety precautions will ensure everyone is safe. I just hope Harry realizes that."

There were oohs and aahs from the crowd as Krum made a partial transfiguration into a shark and Fleur and Diggory used Bubble-Head Charms. As they disappeared into the lake, there were jeers and cat-calls, mostly from the Slytherins as Harry stood on the dock, pulling his robes off, still chewing. It was obvious that it looked to everyone else in the stands that he was going to go swimming with no apparent magical ability.

"Come on, Harry, come on!" I whispered under my breath. And suddenly he looked like he was suffocating. He pulled off his shirt at last, and made a spectacular dive from the dock into the water. "Yes!"

"What is he using?"

"Gillyweed," I muttered back at Neville.

"Oh, that's brilliant!" Neville said, and then began rattling off random facts about the strange plant. I simply smiled and sat down in the stands to wait with the rest of the crowd. I began wringing my hands nervously about a half-hour in. Fleur showed up shortly after that, without a hostage. She'd been attacked by Grindylows.

"Oh no!" I said. "I hope the others are alright." I was on the edge of my seat, craning my neck to see.

"I'm sure they're fine," Neville patted me on the shoulder, reassuringly.

Cedric was the first to show up, Cho was his thing to be missed. They broke the surface, and Cho was revived. He'd finished just outside the time limit. I began to rock in my seat, trying to avoid the worried glances Neville was shooting at me from the corner of his eye. Krum surfaced next, Hermione was safe and sound. I got up from my seat, running for the dock. Professors Snape and Flitwick attempted to stop me, but were waved off by McGonagall.

"Let her go, all three of her best friends were down there. She's been on the verge of break-down sitting in those stands," she said to them.

"Hermione!" I screamed, running pell-mell into her and squeezing her into a hug, despite the fact that she was drenched to the skin.

She hugged me back laughing, "Bella, I'm okay!"

"You and Ron just disappeared and then Harry was down there and I was up here fretting all alone!" I pulled back from the embrace. "Never again! You figure out some way to tell me what's going on next time!" I shook my finger at her like she was a naughty little girl. She just laughed and hugged me again as Madame Pomfrey wrapped her in a blanket. "Thank you, Krum," I smiled at the big hulking boy beside Hermione. Suddenly the crowd in the stands erupted in a great noise, shouting and screaming, they were all on their feet. I looked out onto the lake to see Harry, Ron and Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle, above water. Ron and Gabrielle's eyes were opening. Gabrielle looked scared and confused, but Ron merely expelled a great spout of water, blinking in the bright light before turning to Harry to talk. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Harry looked suddenly ashamed and Ron amused. Ron and Harry pulled Gabrielle through the water back to the dock where the judge's station was set, twenty merpeople had accompanied them to the surface, still singing their horrible screeching song. While Madame Pomfrey fussed over Hermione, Krum, Cedric and Cho, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets, I walked over to where Harry and Ron were reaching the dock. Percy was standing on one side of me waiting for Ron, looking pale, worried, and suddenly, much younger. Fleur was being held back by Madame Maxime from diving back into the water to grab her sister.

"Gabrielle! _Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?"_

"She's fine!" I heard Harry try to tell her, but he was so exhausted he could hardly talk, let alone shout.

When they reached the dock, Fleur reached to pull her sister from the water and wrap her in a blanket. Percy leaned over to help Ron who muttered, "Geroff, Percy, I'm alright!"

"You do realize you didn't have to make sure _all_ of them were saved, didn't you?" I asked Harry, leaning over with my hands on my knees to talk to him while he was still in the water.

"I got that now, thanks," he muttered.

"Oh, Harry!" I said, exasperated. "You have such a good heart, but you don't need to be the hero all the time!"

"Yeah, Ron already called me a prat..." he said, looking up at me.

"Well, I wouldn't call you a—wait no, no, that sounds about right," I said, teasingly.

"Shut up," Harry said, but he was smiling.

"Here, let me help you," I put my hand out to give him a boost from the water onto the dock.

"Yeah, thanks," he reached out his and grasped my hand tightly. I was about to help pull him out of the water when he pulled on my arm so that I flew over his head and into the freezing cold lake. When I came up for air, a surprised look on my face, wiping the water from my eyes and my hair from my face, I could hear laughter from the deck and the stands.

"Oh you are going to get it!" I glared. I swam as fast as I could, in my shoes and robe, towards him, jumping on top of him as he tried to get onto the dock and putting all of my wait on his head, dunking him in the water. I finally let him up for air a moment later. He splashed me in the face, but by that time, Ludo Bagman and Professor Moody were pulling me from the water.

"Come here, you two," Madam Pomfrey snapped at us when we were both on the dock. She seized us by our arms and dragged us over to Hermione and the others. I was told to strip off my outer robe and shoes and socks, and we were both wrapped in blankets so tightly it felt like we were in straightjackets. She poured a very hot potion down each of our throats, and we pointed and laughed at the sight of the steam coming out of the other's ears.

"Harry, well done!" Hermione cried. "You did it, you found out how to do it! All on your own."

"Well—" said Harry. I expected him to tell her about Dobby, but then I followed his gaze to Karkaroff, who was watching him from his seat at the judge's table. He was the only judge still seated there and the only judge not showing signs of pleasure and relief that Harry, Ron and Fleur's sister had got back safely. "Yeah, that's right," said Harry, raising his voice slightly so that Karkaroff could hear him. I smiled, wringing my hair out on the deck.

"You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," said Krum. I had the impression Krum was drawing her attention back to himself; perhaps to remind her that he had just saved her from the lake. Hermione just brushed away the beetle impatiently and said, "You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry...Did it take you ages to find us?"

"No...I found you okay..." I could see him turning a little red in embarrassment and frustration at himself for believing the rule about the time limit. I patted him on the back reassuringly, but he only returned a faint, half-hearted smile to me.

Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally he straightened up, turning to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

"How does Professor Dumbledore know Mermish?" I whispered to Harry.

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"You should ask him next time you have a chat with him, which undoubtedly, you will," I said.

Harry didn't answer. I nudged his shoulder with mine. He looked at me. "Hey, cheer up, buttercup," I said, "Everyone is safe and sound, and the judges love you, so you're bound to do just fine when the scores go up."

When the judges had entered their huddle, Madam Pomfrey went to gather Fleur and Ron. She wrapped Ron in a blanket and gave him some Pepperup Potion as well. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms. Her robes were torn, but she didn't seem to care, nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them.

"Look after Gabrielle," she told the nurse, and then Fleur turned to Harry. "You saved 'er," she said breathlessly. "Even though she was not your 'ostage."

"Yeah," said Harry thickly.

Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek, then said to Ron, "And you too—you 'elped—"

"Yeah," said Ron, looking extremely hopeful, "yeah, a bit—" I threw a punch at his arm from behind him. _Liar_.

Fleur swooped down on him too and kissed him. Both boys had turned red at the kisses. Hermione looked furious and I just tried to cover my grin with the blanket wrapped around me.

After Ludo Bagman announced the scores for the day's task, after which Harry and Cedric were tied for first (Go Hogwarts!), we headed back towards the castle.

"Moral fiber, Harry. That's the ticket!" I heard Fred say as they walked past us up to the castle.

"Great job, Harry!" another Gryffindor patted him on the back.

As we left the area near the lake and headed toward the castle, Colin Creevey ran up with his camera.

"Hey, guys, can I take a picture?" he asked eagerly. "Can I, please?"

"Alright, Colin," Harry relented. He'd been in a much better mood since the scores had been announced and his literal interpretation of the merpeople's song was viewed as "moral fiber."

Colin lifted the camera as Harry put his arm around me on one side and Hermione did the same to me on the other side. I looked at my best friends, a huge grin on my face, before turning to the camera, the happiest I could remember just to have everyone safe and to have gotten Harry through another task alive.

"Okay, one, two, three!" said Colin. And _Poof!_ the camera went off.


	20. Chapter 20: The Black and White Ball

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—he, the other characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine!

**XX. The Black and White Ball**

I stayed in bed for another day, as Snape instructed me (quite forcefully, I might add). He kept pouring potions down my throat, refusing to tell me what each one was or it's function, just assuring me that they were to put me back on my feet and completely heal the internal damage done by the Cruciatus Curse.

"What's going on?" I asked him the fifth time he came into my room that day with a muddy-brown colored potion in his hand.

"I've got another potion for you is what's going on," he replied handing me the tall glass.

"What is it? What is it for?" I asked again.

"I've told you, everything I'm bringing you is to make sure you are—"

" —back on my feet as soon as possible," I finished for him. "I get that. But is my father sending you to give me these?"

"Your father has requested I do all in my power to heal any damage done to you," he said.

"That's what you keep saying, but it isn't giving me any helpful information," I said, grumpily.

"Well, I apologize for the inadequacy of my answers, Miss Riddle," he said. "Now, drink up."

I smelled the potion before drinking it. Snape gave me a look, but refrained from comment.

"It smells like leather boots and cinnamon," I said.

"The cinnamon was a personal touch," he said.

"Really?"

"No. Now drink the potion."

I laughed warily, plugged my nose and gulped it down. Sure enough it tasted like what it smelled of. It wasn't pleasant, especially the lumpy texture (like cottage cheese), but it was far better than my first potion this morning, which tasted like an ashtray and grape cough syrup. I coughed, handing the glass to Snape. He cleaned it with a wave of his wand and filled it with water, which I gulped down to try and rid my mouth of the taste of leather boots.

"I'll be back after dinner with your last potion," he said, turning to leave.

"And tomorrow?" I said hopefully, praying I'd be able to leave my bed.

"You'll return to your lessons," he answered. My excited face fell. Lessons. I'd forgotten about those.

"Oh, goody," I said sarcastically, "lessons..."

I thought I caught him nearly betray a smile as he turned and headed out the door, but then again, it might have been just a trick of the light.

Trinky woke me the next morning for my lessons, a tray full of food for breakfast with my usual cup of tea. Narcissa came to gather me for her lesson in which we went through the lay and use of a half dozen different place settings. She also escorted me to lunch, where I ate alone. Lucius came to retrieve me for his lesson. He droned on about the establishment of Hogwarts and the famous Purebloods who attended the school during the Middle Ages. Snape retrieved me for his Occlumency lesson, after which he escorted me to my father.

This continued on for a week. I did not see head nor tail of Draco Malfoy for the entire time. He had not come to see me after I had sent my patronus to him. He did not appear between my lessons, in the morning or evening meals. I asked everyone where he was. They told me the same thing: "He's away on work for the Dark Lord." "He's busy." "He's not at home." I nodded solemnly and then attempted to concentrate on the matter at hand.

My father hadn't mentioned the incident in which he took my locket and nearly killed me. Our lessons consisted of no practical magic. He did, however, conjure a comfy seat for me to sit in and then spent the rest of the hour lecturing me on dark magic. He only spoke in parseltongue to me, and no Death Eaters were allowed in the room during the lessons. If someone dared to interrupt, they were met with a nasty curse.

The day before the black and white ball, my black dress arrived. Narcissa had me try it on for her that morning, and of course it fit perfectly. The skirt fell just above my knees in shiny black satin. There was a fair amount of tulle underneath to make it flare out. It was strapless, with a sweetheart neckline, and around the waist was a medium sized black sash which tied into a floppy, relaxed bow to one side.

"It's perfect!" Narcissa said. "I'm so glad no alterations are needed."

"Is Draco going to the ball?" I asked, looking at Narcissa through the mirror.

"It will depend on the wishes of the Dark Lord," she said. Her smile had faded at the mention of her son.

"Is he alright?" I asked, suddenly worried.

"Yes. Just fine," she said, the room seemed to drop a few degrees, and I hung my head in disappointment.

I spent the rest of the day in the library, reading, writing, feeling miserable. I had no idea how Draco had taken my apology, and as each hour passed without hearing from him or seeing him, I felt more and more guilty. I kept reasoning with myself that I had no reason to feel guilty. I had every reason not to tell him the truth based on our pasts. But, then, he'd done a lot to help me since I'd started living at the Malfoy Manor, especially this summer. He'd stood up for me a lot since I'd found out my last name was the same as the Dark Lord's, and how had I repaid him?

I stayed in the library through dinner, which I was supposed to eat down in the dining room with the Malfoys and my father. My father came to check on me, but my excuse that I wasn't hungry seemed to suffice for him. That or he could tell I wasn't in the mood to be around people. I'm pretty sure it was the latter, since when he kissed me on the forehead before he left he muttered, "Don't fret, little one, he'll be there." He was gone before what he said had sunk in and I'd come up with a response.

I must have fallen asleep in the window seat of the Malfoy library while reading_ Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ because I awoke slowly to a hand brushing the hair from my eyes. I looked up and straight into a pair of familiar ice-gray eyes.

"Draco!"

"I was worried when I went to check and didn't see you in your room," he spoke softly.

"You checked on me?"

"I told you, I do that every night."

"But everyone said you were away on business," I said, confused, wiping my eyes.

"I was. During the day," he admitted.

"I thought—" but I broke off, not really wanting to say what I thought.

"You thought that I wouldn't be around because of the way things ended the last time we spoke," he supplied.

I just nodded.

"Bella," he whispered, lifting my chin with one of his fingers, "I was angry. But I still love you."

I don't know why that made me feel better. A pang of guilt hit me hard at that realization as well. I felt guilty if I treated Draco miserably. But I felt like a traitor when Draco and I got along due to my friendship with Harry. I couldn't win. He was sitting beside me, but he leaned back and reached for his pocket.

"I have something for you," he said wrapping his fist around something and pulling it out.

I looked at him skeptically. He let something drop from his hand, holding the chain in his fist still. I focused on the silver pendant at the end of the chain as it stopped spinning. It was the locket. My mouth dropped open. I looked from the locket to Draco, then back again.

"What? This—when—how?" I fumbled over my words.

"Your father had the locket placed in the vault after he inspected it," Draco supplied, holding the locket for me to take. "When he discovered no enchantments and opened it to find nothing inside, he deemed it innocuous. So I retrieved it from the vault for you."

"Oh, Draco!" I exclaimed, flinging my arms around him. "Thank you so much!"

He returned the hug tightly. After a moment, I pulled back.

"Wait, did you say he opened it? And found nothing there?" I said, my mind racing.

"Yeah, the locket's empty," he said.

"Empty?" My excitement was growing tangibly.

"Isn't it?" Draco asked, suddenly confused. "He had every person in this house open it, thinking it was under an enchantment."

"Including Snape?" I asked, getting excited. This was so totally the work of Hermione,'s cleverness and magical prowess, I could just feel it.

"Yes. There was nothing there."

"And you?"

"Nothing."

I opened the locket to reveal the pictures I'd seen before.

"She's bloody brilliant!" I muttered.

"Who is?"

"Hermione!" I said, looking up at Draco, the locket in my hands. "She charmed it so only some people can see what's inside."

"What's in it?" Draco asked.

"An album of photos," I said. "Look, can you see it?"

I turned the locket towards him. His eyes widened as he flipped through the photos.

"Now I can," he said.

"It's because I revealed the charm to you, I think."

"Wow, this is beautiful magic."

"Are you going to tell my father?" I asked, my excitement fading fast.

"About the pictures?" he asked. I nodded. "And reveal to him that I removed the locket from the vault and gave it back to you? Yeah, that seems intelligent." I smiled at his sarcasm.

"Thank you so much, Draco," I said, kissing him on the cheek.

His face softened slightly in response to this action. "You're welcome. Thanks for sharing the locket with me...finally."

I looked down at my hands, ashamed. There was a moment of silence.

"Hey, let's get you to bed," he said, patting me on the knee and taking the book from my lap. He stood and replaced it on the shelf. He pulled me from the window seat and walked me back to my room.

"You should find a place to hide that," he pointed to the hand that held the locket.

"With my journal," I nodded, turning to my bed. I knelt down and lodged the locket under the springs of the bed where my journal was hidden.

"I'll cast a concealment charm for you," Draco offered, pulling his wand from his robes. "It'll work until I can get a safe for you." He waved his wand and cast the spell silently with ease.

"Thank you, Draco," I said yet again.

"No problem," he nodded. He opened his mouth to speak further, but closed it as if he thought better of saying what he wished.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"Nothing," he said. I gave him a pointed look. He laughed. "We both should get some sleep."

I put my hand on my hip.

"Well talk tomorrow," he promised. "Now go to bed!" He kissed my forehead before heading out the door with a quick "good night, love"

"Good night," I whispered after him, though the door had already closed.

The next morning, I awoke on my own to a cloudy ceiling above my bed. I looked up at the gray sky, placing my arms above my head. After staring at the clouds for a moment, I rolled over to look at the clock and was startled nearly to the point of falling out of my bed to find a young blond with a pointed face sitting in the rocking chair by my bed.

"Merlin's Beard, Draco! You scared the spell right out of me," I exclaimed. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"A while," he said, revealing nothing.

I just sighed, shaking my head at him, leaning back into the pillows. "You know some people might call you creepy, sitting there while I'm sleeping."

"Oh? And who are these people?"

"Well not me obviously," I said trying to sound nonchalant about it. "I've not said anything of the sort, myself. I'm just warning you."

"Warning me, are you?" he asked, teasing me

"Yes, of course, just looking out for your best interests, you know," I teased back.

"Mm-hm," he looked at me skeptically. I laughed. "Alright, you, out of bed. It's breakfast time," he stood from his chair and pulled me up and out of my warm cocoon.

I reluctantly sat down to breakfast with him. More unwilling to get out of my warm bed than anything else. Part way through breakfast there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" I called, looking at Draco. He shrugged.

A little man with a bald spot on the crown of his head peaked his rat-like face into the room.

"What do you want Wormtail?" Draco said disdainfully as the man crept further into my room.

"The Dark Lord requests your presence," Wormtail said in a timid voice.

"Despite the fact that I am finishing breakfast with his daughter?" Malfoy asked, his voice still harsh towards Wormtail.

"He said that you may finish quickly, but to report directly afterwards within the half hour," Wormtail muttered.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Draco said. Wormtail made a little bow and shuffled towards the door.

"It is good to you see you again, young Bella," said Wormtail, turning towards me. I hadn't seen him, really, since the night in the graveyard. We hadn't spoken since he was revealed as Scabbers in the Shrieking Shack.

"You dare to call her that, Wormtail? What would your master say?" Draco raged, standing form his seat and striding quickly towards the timid man, his wand drawn quickly.

"I did not mean...it's just...when she was..."

"Get out!" Draco bellowed, waving his wand to slam the door behind the man.

"Whoa," I muttered.

Draco turned around, his breathing was still labored from his outburst. He returned to the table, righting the chair he'd overturned when he'd stood in anger. I watched him sit and take a sip of his coffee, too afraid to break the silence that now hung uncomfortably in the air. He sat back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair, heaving a sigh.

"You okay, there?" I asked, eyeing him timidly.

"He had no right—" Draco broke off.

"To call me by my name?" I asked sardonically.

"To even speak to you!"

"Why not?"

"He's a rat!"

"No, but his Animagus is," I said.

"This isn't funny, Bella," he said.

"I think you're over-reacting," I replied softly.

"You don't know him," he continued. "He's a coward and a traitor."

"But he aided in the return of the Dark Lord, why do you despise him so much?"

"He's a coward and a traitor," he repeated as if I'd said nothing. And I could tell that was the end of that. He took a deep sip of his coffee.

"Well, you should probably finish your breakfast so you can go see what Father wants," I tried to change the subject.

Draco took a piece of toast and took a bite with a little more force than was actually necessary.

I took another sip of tea, tucking my legs under me and leaning back in my chair to observe the blond boy sitting across from me. Who knew he could get so angry at someone other than me?

I paced the length of Narcissa's parlor for at least the fiftieth time. I would've already worn a hole in her carpet if it hadn't been that I was barefoot, my heels tossed unceremoniously under the love seat by the window. The door opened and I stopped dead in my tracks, turning to face the door. It was Narcissa.

"Don't worry, he's back," she smiled at me. "He's getting ready as we speak."

"Oh, thank Merlin," I said.

Narcissa stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind her. She approached me, putting her hands on my upper arms and looking at me in such a motherly way it made me feel guilty for every bad thing I'd ever thought about her and her family.

"I was worried when I heard about your fight with Draco earlier," she said honestly. That explained her behavior earlier in the week when she'd bluntly avoided my questions about her son. "But I can see now that you two are going to be just fine."

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to this comment. I was starting to love Narcissa as the only mother figure I'd ever known outside of the orphanage or school. I couldn't bare to see her treat me like she had when Draco and I had been fighting. Even if it was only slightly frigid. I'd let her continue her delusions about our relationship. She kissed me on the cheek and pulled me into an embrace before she left me alone in the parlor again.

Draco was late. Or, perhaps better stated, since Malfoys were "never late," I was early. My nails, makeup and hair had been done professionally again, but didn't take nearly as long as the last time. I requested simple black eye liner and mascara with blush and lip gloss as a very simple makeup job. The hairdresser and I decided to let my long blond hair hang down with a few soft curls and a simple black headband with a miniature bow on it. So, naturally, this took a lot less time than the work that was done for the Parkinson Ball. I'd not seen Draco since breakfast, and he'd left in such a tense mood to meet with my father and hadn't returned, that I'd been anxious all day about whether he was alright and whether he was going to make it to the ball tonight. Narcissa and Lucius were not attending, so Draco and I were going together, alone. I mean, as "alone" as I ever got. There would be a guard of course. I sat down in the love seat by the window, finally feeling a little less nauseous knowing Draco was in the house and nearing a state of readiness. I pulled on my heels and sat back, looking out into the rain that was pouring down in buckets outside. A flash of lightening flashed across the sky, illuminating the otherwise pitch-black back yard of the Mansion as the door to the parlor opened again. I stood up from my seat, rolling my ankle as I lost my balance in the heels. I caught myself on the arm rest so I didn't fall completely. I lifted my head at the sound of someone chuckling beneath his breath.

"No need to rush to greet me," Draco drawled. "I know you missed me."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I think my lack of balance had more to do with it."

Draco was impeccably dressed, in all black. His silk tie was tucked beneath his vest, which was designed with small swirls. He had his hands in his pockets as he entered the room.

"Are you ready?" he asked me.

"Have been for a while, Draco," I pointed out.

"The guard includes Snape, Rosier and...your father," he said.

"Wait, no female?" I asked.

He looked at me as if I'd grown an extra head. "I tell you your father is accompanying us tonight and you are more preoccupied that no female Death Eater is a member of the guard?" said Draco.

"Well, it means I don't have someone following me _everywhere, _which implies a little trust on my father's part," I replied.

"Perhaps," responded Draco, "but he is still attending, which means something as well."

"What's that?" I was almost afraid to ask.

"You have to be on your best behavior," he eyed me pointedly.

"Like I'm ever not!" I laughed. Draco just looked at me, quite seriously, no amusement on his face.

"Let me try again," he said, taking a step towards me. "Your father will be there. It is a ball at which the press will be present. You need to do as you are told."

"Something new and different..."

"So if I say smile..." he ignored my little mutterings.

"I think we've been through this before," I mused.

"Arabella," he growled. "Based on your reputation for not following directions, I think we should go over this."

"Fine," I said, crossing my arms in front of me.

"If I say 'smile'..."

"I smile."

"If I say, 'let's dance'..."

"We dance."

"If I say 'hold my hand'..."

"I hold your bloody hand, I get it Draco!" I threw my hands in the air with exasperation. Before my arms fell down to my sides, however, Draco caught my left hand and pulled me close.

"So let's practice," he said softly. I tensed immediately. "I say, 'kiss me,'..."

"Don't you dare, Draco Malfoy," I muttered through my teeth. He encircled my waist with one arm and put the other behind my neck, under my hair. His lips crashed against mine, and though I tried to pull away I couldn't. I stomped on his foot as hard as I could, but he did not release me. He only broke away when there was the sound of someone clearing his throat near the door.

"Glad to see you two are getting along again," my father grinned slyly from the doorway. "Two minutes to departure." Draco nodded, and my father turned on his heel and left again.

"You knew he was coming!" I accused Draco angrily. "That was completely unnecessary otherwise!"

"Your father has been concerned about our relationship. He needs to see that we are together," Draco said as if it were the perfect explanation.

"We are not together and never will be! It's a complete lie!"

"Arabella—" Draco sighed.

"Don't you 'Arabella' me!" I said, grabbing my shawl from where it was draped over the wing-backed chair and stomping out of the room. The man could be so frustrating! Why did he have to go and ruin a perfectly good friendship by trying to force a romantic relationship?

When I got to the entrance hall the guard was already waiting for us. Everyone was dressed in all black and had their wands out already. Draco entered a few moments after me. We were to apparate to the location of the ball, but I had no idea the location, so I would be side-along apparating with Draco...again. I took his arm without looking at him, and without anyone speaking a word from the time I entered the entrance hall until the time we were set to depart, I felt the familiar squeezing sensation that meant we were on our way. When the sensation of suffocation was finally released, we were in a dimly lit ballroom that was filled with Ramoras, which were enchanted to glow, giving off a silvery light that provided the illumination for most of the room. The Ramoras swam in a layer of water above our heads that was held up by an invisible barrier. I could barely tear my eyes away from the ceiling, but I was forced to when a camera bulb flashed and I was nearly blinded.

"No comment right now, Ms. Skeeter, we are here to enjoy ourselves," Draco said smoothly and somehow, like magic, he bypassed the reporter without another word, he grabbed my hand and led me through the crowd straight to the dance floor. "Shall we?"

I neither agreed nor disagreed, knowing it didn't really matter, but let him pull me into a fox trot. I made a point to ignore all of his instructions throughout the evening. As my frown grew deeper, so did my father's. I saw him sitting at a table in the back of the room watching.

"Stop being so difficult," Draco muttered at some point.

"I'm not being difficult, I'm being myself," I replied, a little nastier than necessary.

The only time I smiled the entire evening, mostly just to spite Draco, was when I danced a song with Blaise and one with Theodore while Draco danced with Pansy and Astoria Greengrass respectively. We danced a few more, ending with a waltz. It was still early, but Draco turned to me, his eyes blazing.

"Take my arm, we're going out onto the balcony," he said. I opened my mouth with a snide comment, but the look on his face shut my jaw for me. "It's either that, or we go home, and your father won't be terribly happy." I linked my arm in his and let him lead me just outside the ballroom. He turned to close the doors so we wouldn't be overheard, but my father had approached. Draco fell to his knee.

"I'd like a word with you, Arabella," he said, ignoring Draco.

"My Lord," Draco spoke up, his head still bowed, "I'd actually like to handle this. I think, perhaps, I know how to get the point across, and she won't believe me irresolute from now on."

The Dark Lord looked at me and then at Draco, and then gave a nod. "Yes, perhaps you are accurate in your thinking. You will report to me after you have dealt with her." He turned on his heel and left through the double doors to the balcony, closing them behind himself. He stood in front of them, I could see his shadow through the curtains and window, almost as if he were standing guard. Draco stood and turned; he began pacing from one end of the balcony to the other. It was still pouring outside, but there was an overhang that blocked the rain from falling upon us.

"What did he mean by 'after you have dealt with her'?" I asked when I finally found my voice, it was shaking slightly, and it was then I realized I was afraid of Draco. I hadn't been afraid of the young man ever. I'd always known he wouldn't hurt me, either because of teachers, lack of ability to outsmart me, or on my father's orders. But here, I had no teachers lurking to catch him, no wand, and my father had given him permission to "deal with me," whatever that meant. He raised his right hand to run it through his hair, but I ducked, afraid he was going to hit me. He caught the small movement I'd made, and then walked over to the opposite end of the platform from me, so there were a couple meters between us.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Bella," he said as he looked out over the railing onto the grounds. His voice was steady, which unnerved me. I'd expected it to be shaking with anger. "I would never dream of it. But you should know your father probably thinks I'm so angry I will hurt you in some small way."

I didn't respond. I stood, every muscle in my body tense, still afraid of what was going to happen.

"Why do you always have to make everything so _difficult_?" he asked, turning to face me again.

I wasn't sure how to answer this.

"All you had to do was behave, to do what I said. Was that really so difficult?"

"Yes," I said, barely audible.

"Why?"

"Because you are asking me to do things I don't want to. To create a lie."

"We all have to do things we don't want to sometimes, Ari," he said, shaking his head at me, "Especially during a war."

"Just because you like this—agreement—my father made with your parents doesn't mean I have to and I won't pretend to."

"You think I _like_ this?" he burst out in a very un-Draco-like manner. "You think I like making you act like something you aren't. You think I like knowing every time the facade of our relationship needs to go up, I have to force you to pretend to like me, which just pushes you further and further away from me? It's like we take two steps forward, together, as friends at least, and then three leaps back when it comes to being 'a couple' –" he emphasized the phrase to indicate air quotes. "I despise this just as much as you do, I'm just mature enough to learn to live with it."

I looked down at my shoes. He took a step towards me and I looked up as he spoke again.

"Now, whether you like it or not, we're stuck together. A couple. No matter what you try to do to stop this, our fathers' plans won't be thwarted. So, you have two choices, continue on as you are, making us both miserable, or work with me to make this function as best we can. I will do everything in my power to make you happy. You know I love you and just want you to be happy, Ari. But I can't do that with you fighting me at every other turn. Yes, you'll have to put on appearances for your father, for the press, for my family, but wouldn't it be much less painful to know you chose to act that way even if you don't feel it? Rather than me force it from you?"

He'd continued to take steps towards me as he spoke, until he was right in front of me. His argument was sound. His gaze was just as intense as his voice.

"So will you work with me or fight against me, Arabella? Because I really don't want to fight you anymore."

I looked at my feet again. He was right. I looked back at him, his arms were extended towards me, pleadingly.

"You're right, Draco," I sighed. "I'm with you." I put my hands in his and he pulled me into a fierce hug I wasn't expecting.

"Thank you, love," he whispered into my hair.

"But will you please go back to calling me 'Bella' when we are together?" I whispered back.

He chuckled.

"Of course," and he brushed a kiss across my temple.

Draco released me, offering me his arm, which I took. It felt better to know I did so willingly and without a grudge. He led me to the double doors, my father was still standing on the other side. Draco knocked lightly on one of the doors and opened them as my father moved to one side.

"Arabella, why don't you go sit with Severus while I talk to your father, I'll be right there," Draco said to me.

I looked from him to my father, who gave me a curt nod. With one last look at Draco, I walked across the dance floor, avoiding any interference with the couples actually dancing.

"Miss Riddle," Snape stood, inclining his head toward me in greeting as I sat next to him. "You look lovely as usual."

"Thank you, sir," I replied.

"And I see you've already managed to upset the men in your life tonight," he said dryly. "Your work is complete."

"Work?" I asked, playing innocent for a moment. "No that's pure talent. I can do that without even trying. Just by breathing." I allowed a wicked smirk to spread slightly across my lips. A smile spread across Snape's face. An expression so rarely seen it took me by surprise. I nearly jumped when Draco approached me from my other side.

"May I steal Arabella back?" he asked Snape.

"I suppose you must, Mr. Malfoy," replied Snape simply, his usual facial expression replaced immediately.

I gave him a smile and a nod as I stood to take Draco's hand. A waltz was beginning so Draco led me to the dance floor.

"How'd it go?" I asked, placing my hand on his shoulder.

"Let's just say you owe me," he smirked.

I looked away, down at the floor, "I know."

"I told him that I'd thoroughly scolded you and that I was positive you'd behave now," he continued as he whirled me around the dance floor.

"How positive?"

"You were 'in tears at the thought of how horridly you'd behaved'" he elaborated.

"Yeah, that sounds like me," I replied sarcastically.

"He was slightly suspicious, but if you do keep the agreement, it should be convincing enough," he said.

"You didn't mention the agreement to him, though, did you?"

"No."

I nodded. "Good."

We smiled at each other and just continued to dance.

Two hours of dancing later, I turned to Draco.

"My feet are killing me. Can we go home?"

"If your father says it is okay, yes," replied Draco.

"Always!" I said, a little exasperated.

"Yes, always," came his gentle reply. He led me to sit next to Snape again, bringing me glass of water before pinning down my father to ask permission to leave. I looked up as I took an un-ladylike gulp of water. The fish were still swimming lazily above our heads.

"What did he say to you?" Snape asked. His face seemed unemotional, as if this were a very unimportant and altogether regular thing to say. His voice betrayed an underlying preoccupation.

"Pardon?"

"To get to you behave," he explained. "I've not seen you follow instructions for two hours with a smile on your face before without there being some sort of deal under the table."

"Oh?" I asked skeptically.

"Outside of class," he specified, clipping his words in his infamous manner.

I laughed lightly. Professor Snape, despite my being a Gryffindor at Hogwarts, had always been my favorite teacher. I'd always loved Potions class and had wanted to go on to study potions after Hogwarts. He'd become a mentor for me early on, making double Potions always more pleasant for me than for the other Gryffindors. He didn't play favorites with me, but he looked out for me and made sure I was challenged inside and outside of his class with potions work I loved. I'd come to suspect most recently that he'd figured out who my mother was early on and had thus taken it upon himself to become a mentor to me.

"He reminded me how much easier a potion is to make when you work together than when you're fighting against each other and not communicating," I said.

"You were always a 'do-it-alone' type," observed Snape.

"I don't really have that option anymore."

"You haven't for a while."

I nodded. I expected him to say something else, but he rose suddenly. I looked up beside me to see my father there.

"Draco says you are tired and would like to return home," my father addressed me, phrasing it as a question more than a statement.

"Yes, father," I replied, standing as well.

He looked at me as if he was trying to decide if he thought I was human or not.

"Brunch is at 10:30."

Ah, yes. It was a Sunday Brunch week.

"Thank you, father," I said. I did as graceful a curtsy as I could manage and took Draco's arm. He led me out of the entrance hall as we were followed by the guard. Without warning, he apparated with me straight to my room. When the squeezing ended, I opened my mouth to reprimand him for such a rude force of magic upon me when I could do apparate home perfectly well on my own. However, Draco had his hand over my mouth before I could even form the first word. He held up a finger to indicate I needed to wait one moment, pointing to his ear and then the door, mouthing "your father" carefully so I understood. The Dark Lord was listening in on us from the hall. I nodded in understanding and he removed his hand from my mouth.

"Come here," he whispered, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. I let him envelope me in a hug, the expression on my face most likely puzzled. "I'm sorry I was so severe with you, but you have to understand..." he trailed off as he pulled back, putting his hands on my arms. I looked into his face and saw he was looking at me very intently. He mouthed two words very carefully, "Play along."

"I do," I sighed. "And I'm sorry."

"Just, promise me—"

"I already did," I interrupted. He smiled. We both knew we were having a useless conversation that would sound like Draco had been harsh with me and I was now behaving out of fear and regret. It was enough to betray nothing and possibly convince my father of the lie Draco had told him at the ball.

"Alright," he sighed, kissing me on my forehead. "I'll let you change for bed and come check on you in ten or fifteen minutes." Before he pulled back he whispered in my ear, "I'm sorry for apparating without warning, but you understand the circumstances."

I simply nodded when he looked at me.

He strode past me and toward the door, but just before he opened it, I turned, "Draco?"

He stopped and turned to look at me, his hand still on the doorknob.

"Thank you," I mouthed silently.

He smiled and nodded before striding out the door.

_AN: Sorry for the long delay. As most authors have noted, classes have begun again. That and band and personal drama have taken over my life! A big "Thank you" to my friend Alex who let me babble about different animals to figure out the Ramora bit for the B&W ball. Review please! XO!_


	21. Chapter 21: Summertime

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter. The original characters and canon belong to J.K. Rowling. Arabella Rose Riddle and the details surrounding her life do belong to me.

**XXI. Summertime**

When the door closed behind him, I heaved a sigh and turned towards the closet. I reached up to my ears to pull the earrings off. I carefully opened the jewelry box and dropped them in. I pulled my dress off and slipped into my pajamas. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I sat down in front of the fireplace with my book. All of these movements seemed less laborious than usual, and I took great care in each action. I replaced all of my belongings to their rightful places and each step I took felt carefully placed. I felt like a dancer being watched by an invisible audience.

"Come in," I called lightly when there was a knock on the door. Draco strode in and sat on the couch in front of the fire. He was dressed in casual wear, the most casual wear I'd ever seen him in. His black sweatpants could probably have passed for regular pants. He wore a simple black t-shirt. He sat in silence, staring into the fire. I finished the chapter I was reading and looked up at him. He hadn't moved a muscle since he'd sat down.

"The Dark Lord was just outside the door when I left," he said without moving.

I nodded in understanding. So he _had_ been eavesdropping as Draco had indicated.

"But he seemed contented by what he heard."

I looked at Draco. His blond hair was swept to one side, out of his face. He looked so different from the boy with the slicked-back hair I'd met first year. I could barely see his eyes from the angle he was sitting, but the reflection of the fire seemed to turn them to a molten liquid. After another moment of silence, I returned to my book.

"We should go to bed," Draco interrupted a few minutes later. I kept reading, wanting to finish the current chapter before bed. Draco stood and approached me. I ignored him, but he took the book from my hands and tossed it unceremoniously on the coffee table in front of the couch. He extended his hand to me. I took it without a sound and he lifted me quite easily from my seat. Rather than release my hand, he pulled me closer, placing one hand on my waist. Quite naturally, we assumed the waltz position. He led me in a slow dance, turning gently and swaying to the music of the thunderstorm raging outside.

"No snide comment about how I took your book?" he asked skeptically after a few moments.

I shrugged, "I guess it's not in me tonight."

"Something wrong?" he asked, his eyebrows raising barely a centimeter.

I furrowed my brow, actually thinking of an answer. Was there something wrong? Or was I strangely content and therefore just quiet?

"No," came my simple answer. I decided that coming up with a more elaborate explanation would be too difficult.

Draco looked at me intensely, obviously trying to tell if I was lying. I dropped my usual mental wall, so he could feel it was the truth. He stopped moving suddenly when the mental blocks disappeared, and a surprised look spread across his face—like he'd just won an award he thought would go to someone else.

"Good," he whispered, placing a slow kiss upon my cheek.

He took his hand from my waist, but did not release my hand. He led me to my bed. I eyed him carefully, slightly wary of his actions. He pulled back the covers so I could climb into the cool crisp sheets. I shivered slightly as lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the manor grounds momentarily. Draco tucked me in gently, noxing the light beside my bed.

"Good night, love," he whispered, planting another kiss upon my forehead.

"Good night, Draco," I replied. He smiled into my eyes before turning to leave. He extinguished the lamps before heading out the door.

I watched him leave, and stared at the door for several minutes after he left. I had been one hell of a night. I hadn't decided yet whether or not I'd made the right decision regarding Draco and our relationship. I was definitely feeling less like I was trapped, but I was also worried that Draco would take this as an invitation for our "relationship" to get too serious too fast. My thoughts were interrupted by a boom of thunder that made me jump. I decided I would have a talk with Draco tomorrow about boundaries, perhaps that would help. I turned on my side, pointing my back to the storm so I wouldn't be distracted and kept awake watching the beauty of it storming outside. Before I knew it I was fast asleep...

The summer continued on in a similar fashion. Or rather, the summer schedule did. I would have my lessons with Narcissa, Snape, Lucius and Father, brunch every few Sundays, and balls nearly every other weekend. As I learned more and more about Pureblood society, the lessons with Narcissa changed into "let's-introduce-Arabella-to-as-many-pureblood-families-as-possible" time. I soon had more "new-best-friends" than I could count, all wanting to sip tea, go shopping and gossip about my other "new-best-friends." Draco enjoyed hearing me complain about how horrid all of the girls were that he had grown up knowing as a pureblood young man. In what became our nightly ritual, he would sit in one of the chairs in my room while I sipped tea and failed to read my book, a smirk on his face.

"I don't know how they are so good at faking that they like each other at all the balls, when all they do is complain about one other behind each other's back!" I said.

"You are complaining about them right now," Draco pointed out, "but you are perfectly polite to them at balls."

"I know it's not much better, but I only complain to _you_," I specified. "Just like you complain to me. But neither of us turn to any one who will listen to talk bad about someone we pretend to be best friends with every other day of the week. I'm polite, but not friendly. I don't consider gossiping a friendly thing to do."

"You are a unique young lady," he said. "I don't think I've ever met a girl who doesn't like to gossip."

"Girls like to talk. Talking and gossip are two totally different things."

"Oh?"

"Yes," I insisted, slightly irritated.

"How so?"

"Look it up in a dictionary!" I huffed.

He chuckled in his usual arrogant manner, so I threw a book at him, which he blocked easily and set down on the table with a flick of his wand.

Lessons with Snape changed slightly as well. Once he had determined my Occlumency was up to par, he would ensure the room was sealed and silence before spending some time working with me on Defense Against the Dark Arts. I never knew when a lesson was DADA and when one was Occlumency review, but it kept me sufficiently on my toes. I was ever thankful for the DADA lessons, since the more and more Dark Magic my father was lecturing me on and having me practice was hard to fight.

"You're exhausted," he pointed out to me one day during Occlumency review.

"Yeah, well, the whole Imperius Curse review didn't go so hot yesterday," I responded.

"Don't stop fighting," Snape said quite forcefully.

I looked up at him.

"Don't stop fighting the lure of the Dark Magic. As soon as you give in, it's so much harder to go back," he explained.

"I know," I responded, "It's just...not easy."

"It's probably the most difficult magical test you will ever be put through," he said bluntly.

"I dunno, my Ancient Ruins N.E.W.T. was pretty difficult," I teased.

"I'm serious," he said roughly. "As soon as you give in, all will be lost. The Order needs you, Bella."

"They do not," I laughed. "I'm not doing anything!"

"You are doing a lot. Right now, that's fighting the Dark Lord through resistance against his Dark Magic, the Dark Magic he became so obsessed with and is now consumed by. Just by resisting it, you are proving you are stronger than the Dark Lord, someone every thought unbeatable—"

"But Harry is the Boy Who Lived, the Chose One," I argued.

"—but you are beating the Dark Lord at his own game, Bella. He thinks he has you, that you're playing by his rules and that you'll become so entranced by the Dark Magic you'll follow in his footsteps. But as long as you stay strong, continue resisting when he assumes you are on his side, you'll be able to help the Order with inside information that even I can't get as a member of the Inner Circle."

"That's assuming he'll ever assume that I'm on his side, which isn't likely," I reminded. "He doesn't trust anyone."

"He trusted your mother."

Unfortunately it was time for my next lesson and the conversation was brought to an abrupt end. Snape refused to let me begin again where it had left off by the time of my next lesson, but he continued to push my magical abilities from a defense stand point. I found myself getting better and better at the magic he was teaching, such that the Dark Magic got easier and easier to perform without feeling like I was grasping to not lose myself in the process of appeasing my father.

I don't know how much my father had ever trusted my mother, or even if what Snape had said about them was true, but I did find my father had begun to lessen the restrictions on me. I was now allowed to carry my own wand around during the days at Malfoy Manor. Draco kept it for me during the night and during balls, but it was a major improvement over earlier in the summer, when I could only use my wand during lessons. I was allowed to move about the main level and the second level of the Manor on my own, and venture into the gardens for a walk without a Death Eater accompanying me at all times. The changes took place very slowly over the course of the rest of the summer, but every little thing made the Manor feel a little less like a prison and more like a home worth living in.

"Arabella," my father stopped me from exiting the ballroom after my lesson one day.

"Yes, Father?" I turned to face him again.

"You are doing very well," he said. "I'm proud of you."

My face and neck grew hot with embarrassment and shame. "Thank you, Father."

"And I'm happy to see you and Draco getting along well," he continued.

"Yes," was the only thing I could come up with.

"I see more and more of your mother in you every day," he said.

"Thank you," I said and then, with a nod of dismissal from him, turned and walked out the door.

It was true that Draco and I had been getting along better since the Black and White Ball. "Better" being the key word in that sentence. We still argued and fought and yelled at each other, but we'd also grown closer. Our agreement to work together helped to prevent many of the fights we would have had otherwise. Unfortunately it created new arguments as well.

"You have to kiss me," Draco whispered to me as we descended the stairs of a famous Pureblood dance hall in London.

"Um, right now?"

"No, of course not," he scoffed, "but at some point tonight."

"Um, why?" I asked, a fake smile still plastered on my face as we reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Because we need to continue to convey the success of our relationship," he commented.

"And holding hands and smiling and dancing isn't enough?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because couples kiss when they are in love."

"We kiss," I stated.

"You let me kiss you on the cheek."

"Exactly," I said cheerily, "we're fine."

"No. We need to kiss. For real," he said.

"As if kisses on the cheek aren't real!" I pretended to be insulted.

"You are purposefully being difficult!" he said exasperated.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I teased.

"Arabella..."

"Fine, fine," I sighed. "I just don't get why it's such a big deal. I mean, you've forced kisses upon me in public before. And public displays of affection are annoying anyway."

"People are starting to question the validity of our relationship," he warned.

"Perhaps because it's _not_ valid?" I suggested sarcastically.

"We don't want them to know that, do we?"

"No," I resigned. "I'm so sick of pretending."

"I know, Ari, but it's better than the alternative."

"I dunno, death would be easy..."

He glared at me.

"Kidding! Geez you are so uptight tonight," I said quickly. A frown etched his face and I patted his hand in an attempt to comfort him. "Besides, where have you been hearing that the validity of this relationship is in question?"

But before Draco could answer, someone else answered for him. A young brunette with a face like a pug walked by in a dress that was fitted just a little too tight with a neck line just a little too low.

"If you need some real action, Drakie, you know where to find me," came the sickly sweet drawl of Pansy Parkinson.

"I don't need or want...your services," Draco replied with disdain.

"Oh? And you think Miss Prude will give you what you want?"

"What I want and what you think I want are two completely different things, Miss Parkinson," he replied formally, "And what would your parents think if you heard them talk about their master's daughter in such a way?"

Pansy's mouth opened and closed a few times, without a sound.

"I've got all I could ever want or need, right here on my arm," Draco said, looking to me and putting his left hand over mine which I had looped through his right arm. I smiled up at him, blushing slightly. The corniness of it all made me want to gag a little, but I nonetheless appreciated him defending my honor. "Shall we dance?" he asked, ignoring the look of disgust on Pansy's face.

"I'd love to," I responded.

He led me out onto the dance floor, where we found an open spot to start dancing.

"Thank you for standing up for me, Draco," I said.

"It was nothing," he waved the comment away.

"No, really," I insisted.

"She was out of line."

"Perhaps now, but back in school you would have been on her side."

"I think I know you better now than when we were back in school," he commented.

"Probably."

"Definitely."

I looked down at my feet to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

"Arabella?" he drew my attention back.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember that day when Pansy and Blaise came by the Manor to visit?"

"Vividly," I responded with a smile.

"Did you ever wonder what Pansy wanted from me?"

"Yes, at one time or other I did, though I had an idea."

"Oh?" he looked slightly surprised to hear this, almost pleased at the same time, though. "And what was your suspicion?"

"I figured she wanted you back. Didn't you have a rather lengthy relationship while you two were at Hogwarts?"

"We did."

"And it was a fairly ugly break up?" I asked to confirm.

"It was."

"And she ended it, or at least spread the rumor she did."

"She did."

"She did what? End it? Or spread the rumor?"

"The rumor," Draco clarified.

"So you ended it then," I stated.

"I did."

"Why?" I asked. "Because you found out I was the Dark Lord's daughter and you were forcibly going to be married to me?"

"No," he said.

He twirled me around the dance floor, but he continued to look only at me, which made me a little uncomfortable.

"Care to elaborate?"

"It was an unhealthy relationship. She gave me the praise my father never did, the praise I thought I needed to be a worthwhile person. But she didn't love me, she just loved the fact that I was from a well-known Pureblood family with money. But I won't pretend you had nothing to do with it. I'd fallen in love with you before I found out who you were, remember? That night at the Yule Ball when you cut your foot. I broke the glass and used my wand to move it so you would step on it. I foolishly, like any 14-year-old boy, thought that you would fall for me the instant you were in my arms, like every other girl I'd met. But, anyway, finding out about your past meant knowing that my family would not only accept you as the girl I loved, but expect a marriage between us as we were already betrothed. That helped with the decision to break it off with Pansy and catalyzed the action of actually breaking it off..."

"Not to mention you had no choice."

"That was only icing on the cake," he cracked a smile. "She couldn't argue with me since I'd be killed by the Dark Lord if I didn't do what I was told."

We danced in silence for a while longer. I didn't want to break the silence and ruin the moment, fearing he wouldn't continue talking.

"Pansy came to me that day to ask me to take her back. She wanted me to try and get out of the betrothal. She believed that she was lonely and lost without me and that I was the only one for her."

"And?"

"I told her I was in love with you," he stated. "She went berserk, saying you weren't even a pureblood, you weren't worthy, you weren't ever going to love me. I let her scream at me about all your faults and her virtues, reminded every time she opened her mouth about how much happier I was spending time with you, even if you didn't return my feelings and perhaps never would. It was still such a blessing to know that I wouldn't have to resort to marrying her, but instead would have the privilege of marrying you: a beautiful, sweet, humble, intelligent and honest young woman whose moral values always take precedence over her personal opinion."

I was suddenly unable to look at him. His praise was much too high, much more than I deserved based on the way I had treated him on some occasions.

"I'm sorry I'm not better, Draco," was all I could say when I looked back into his cool gray eyes.

"Bella, that's just it," he whispered. "You're perfect."

The song came to an end, and we came to stand at rest near the entrance to the garden on the far side of the room. I don't know whether it was the comment Pansy had made, the heat and perfume of the room, or just the sweet things Draco had said—perhaps it was a combination of all three—but I suddenly had the urge to kiss him, to fulfill his one request of the evening. When he nearly broke away from our dance position, I held his hand fast, so he returned to face me, a questioning look on his face. I leaned in to press my lips lightly against his and he returned a soft, gentle kiss, altogether different in character to the previous kisses he'd forced upon my lips. His lips were warm and soft and carried such a feeling of love and caring that I was hardly able doubt his previous words. When the kiss was broken, he leaned his forehead against mine.

"I love you," he whispered. "Thank you."

We continued to squabble through the rest of the summer over how much P.D.A. was actually necessary, but that definitely wasn't the worst of our fights. Fall began to appear in mid-September, when the trees changed all the brilliant shades of red, orange and yellow I so lovingly associated with the season. I awoke one morning to a golden sky, a clear day and and empty room. I glanced at the clock. It was eight seventeen. Usually Draco woke me about 7:45 for breakfast, and we'd eat together before my lessons.

"Trinky?" I called.

There was a pop as she appeared, carrying a breakfast tray.

"Good morning, Mistress Arabella," she squeaked.

"Trinky, do you know where Draco is?"

"Master Malfoy is out on business today," she responded, climbing a short stool to set my breakfast tray on my lap.

"Really?" I asked, Trinky pressed a spoon into my hand. "He didn't mention it to me."

I looked at the elf, but she quickly looked away, almost guiltily.

"Trinky, you know something don't you...?" I asked softly.

"Yes, mistress, but Trinky was ordered not to say!" the little elf shrieked, afraid of disobeying one of her masters.

"Okay, okay, Trinky, calm down!" I patted her arm gently. "I won't ask you."

It took a few more moments for her to stop hyperventilating, but she seemed to calm as I took a spoonful of oatmeal.

"Trinky, do I have lessons today?" I asked.

She didn't answer, instead just pointing a finger at a piece of paper on my tray.

In an all-too familiar calligraphy, my name was written on the outside. I picked up the piece of paper, unfolding it to read the note inside.

"Just call for Trinky when you are done, Mistress," the elf said, making a polite exit. I nodded, turning back to the note.

_Arabella,_

_ Your lessons have been cancelled for the day. You have permission to visit the library and the Blue Room. Do not go for a walk, do not leave the house, do not enter the breakfast room or parlor. If you need anything, ask the house elves. Travers and Mulciber are here. You'll be safe._

_ Your father._

And below was a dark mark, which floated lazily on the page below.

"You'll be safe? You'll be safe!" I said aloud, a little irritated. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

I crumpled up the note and threw it towards the trash can. It didn't quite make it, but I scoffed in a irritation at the message not at my terrible aim. I picked my spoon back up, taking another bite of oatmeal. An entire day, confined to the house—wait, not even the house, just my room, the library and the Blue Room—alone.

"What is going _on_?"

I was only allowed on the second level. The library was down the hall from my room, the Blue Room was the upstairs parlor. All three rooms looked out onto the Malfoy gardens. Travers and Mulciber weren't Father's favorites, but they had both stayed loyal to him during those fourteen long years in prison. Something was definitely going on. Something big.

"Argh!" I growled, moving the breakfast tray to lay beside me. I climbed from my bed and pulled my dressing robe on. I walked gently, in my bare feet to the door. After peeking out into the hall, which was empty, I headed to the library. It was empty. The curtains were drawn, the lamps lit lowly. I turned quickly and walked to the Blue Room. I checked the hall behind me as I walked, slightly unnerved by how quiet the house was. It was always quiet in this house, relatively speaking. I mean, having grown up in an orphanage, I was used to never having a moment of peace. And Hogwarts wasn't much different. The summer had been a time of acclimation for me at the Malfoy Manor. I slowly but surely became used to the fact that the house was eerily big, empty and silent. Today it seemed even more silent, and every creak of a floorboard or rustle of wind against a window sent me jumping. When I got to the Blue Room, I opened the door slowly, the creaking of the hinge seemed to echo against the empty hallway. It appeared just as the library did: empty, the curtains drawn, the lamps lit lowly.

"So if Travers and Mulciber 'are here', where are they?" I said aloud to myself, turning back down the hall to get to my room. _Probably lurking about like a couple of creepers,_ I thought to myself. The padding of my feet on the hard-wood floor was the only sound in the house as I made my way back down the hallway. When I reached my room, I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. I looked down the hall in the direction in which I had come, and then down the hall towards the stairs. No one was around as far as I could tell. I took my hand from the knob and took a step past my room towards the stairs. I was waiting for something to happen: a trap to fall, a spell to hit me, a horn to sound. Nothing. I took two more steps. Nothing. I was starting to feel a little foolish. I walked all the way to the stairwell before stopping again.

"Who's here to stop me?" I asked aloud. I half expected Travers or Mulciber to reveal himself. I looked over the banister down into the entry hall, but no one was there. I moved to go downstairs. I really wanted to go sit in the window seat in the Lavender Parlor downstairs. But as I lifted my foot to step down the first step, I stopped. I thought back to all of the privileges I'd been granted towards the end of the summer, how long it had taken to earn the trust just to be allowed to carry my wand or to walk around the manor on my own. My father had basically forbid me go downstairs for the day, did I really want to lose my new-found freedom by goofing off? If he found out, would it be worth it?

"Ahhh!" I yelled, exasperated. I hated feeling like I was trapped. I hated even more that I was acting to please the Dark Lord. It made me feel even more like a traitor than I had that day Lord Voldemort had said he was proud of me. What kind of best friend to Harry Potter was I? Harry Potter's best friend would walk down those stairs and out the front door if she could! I grappled with the options. I knew I wouldn't make it out that door. Father had left two Death Eaters here for a reason. Not just for my safety, but to report back on my behavior and ensure I didn't run off. I needed to keep Father's trust, for my sanity, for the possibility of helping the Order, for the chance to end the war and get out of here alive. I turned and went straight to my room, slamming the door behind me as I entered. I grabbed the tray from the bed, carried it to the couch in front of the fireplace, and plopped down with my book. I spent the rest of the morning with my book in one hand, a spoon in the other, and the bowl of oatmeal in my lap.

I spent the afternoon in the library reading and writing. I took a nap on the couch there, and resumed reading after tea. Near dinner time, I heard footsteps treading down the hallway and looked up to see Draco enter.

"Hello," he greeted me. It was almost awkward to see him standing there after spending a day in solitude. I felt like he was imposing his presence upon me.

"Hi," was my only response. I turned back to my book, feeling a little irritated.

"Are you wanting dinner?"

"Not yet."

"Would you like a walk in the garden?"

"Not right now."

Silence.

Draco came and sat on the couch next to me. I had my feet out in front of me on the couch cushion as I leaned against the armrest so he couldn't sit too close.

"How long have you been home?" I asked Draco.

"An hour or so."

I nodded.

"Where were you?"

"London."

"How...specific," I remarked.

"Bella, you know I can't give you the details," he said. Ah, confirmation that all of the Death Eaters were off on some campaign against the Order for the day.

"Why not? You don't trust me? It's not like I can go blabbing off to my fellow Gryffindors or anything."

"True," he said. "But still."

"Still what?"

"I can't tell you."

I gave him a dark look.

"You aren't a Death Eater," he supplied.

"Thank Merlin for that," I whispered under my breath, returning to my book.

The silence stretched for a few moments. I pretended to read my book, but couldn't concentrate. Draco was still looking at me. I decided to ask the usual set of questions I resorted to when I knew there had been a battle.

"How angry is Father?" I asked, still looking at the same page I'd been starting at for the past two minutes.

"Fairly."

"How many did he lose?"

"Several."

I looked at him pointedly.

"Five."

"And them?"

"I didn't stop to count," he said darkly.

"Don't be cross," I said lightly.

"Why not?" he asked. "You shouldn't be asking how the other side is doing!"

"Don't be thick. Everyone wants to know who won and usually you do that by asking how many each side lost! It should count for something I asked about your side first!"

"I know you're only asking because you want to make sure none of your little friends got hurt!" His voice began to rise in volume.

"So what if I am!" I matched the pitch of his voice.

"What do you care about them?" he stood from his seat, gesturing out the window like they were outside now.

"I love them! They are my friends!" I stood as well.

"Who have left you here all summer?" he asked. "Who have left you to live with the enemy!"

"They know I'm safe here! They shouldn't preoccupy themselves with my safety when they have more important things on their minds!"

"Like what?" he took a step towards me. My mind jumped to Horcruxes, but I immediately cleared my mind of everything, for fear of Draco's skill at Legilimency.

"None of your business!"

"Like what, Arabella?" he asked, his voice dark and tense, we were nearly nose to nose.

"I can't tell you!" I said.

"Why not? Don't trust me?"

"No! And you aren't a member of the Order!" I mirrored his reasons for not telling me.

"Oh, and like _you_ are," his sarcasm wounded me this time and I fell silent.

"Draco, I have to know if they get hurt," I whispered.

"Why?" his voice was dark and loud still.

"I'll die if one of them is injured or captured or..." I broke off, unable to say the word.

"Killed?" he finished bluntly for me.

"Yes."

We fell silent. Draco walked a few paces away and I stayed seated on the couch.

"Why are you so upset over me asking if anyone was killed?" I said softly. "You know that I would want to know if any one we went to school with was murdered or injured badly. On either side."

He didn't answer.

"I've asked about them before..."

"You never ask about me!" he interrupted.

My heart stopped.

"I think I would've known if you had been hurt..." I said slowly.

He shook his head.

"You were hurt tonight, weren't you?"

He nodded.

"Oh, Draco."

I stood and walked over to him. He had turned his back on me as he had said these things. And I reached out to touch his shoulder. He stepped forward so I couldn't touch him. I retracted my hand quickly, as if I had been burned.

"What happened?" I asked, barely audible.

After a moment of silence, he began to speak. His gaze was straight forward and he didn't move, save to breathe and speak.

"I had Granger cornered, and I'd been ordered to torture any member of the Order for information," he admitted. I involuntarily brought my right hand to cover my mouth. "Potter came to her rescue. He and Weasel hit me with nasty curses at the same time. I flew into a stone wall and was momentarily knocked out. When I came to, Potter was standing over me, his wand pointed at my heart. I was under a body-binding curse, so I couldn't move, even though I could taste blood running down my throat. I was sure he was going to kill me. He asked where you were. He demanded I tell him how to find you. He demanded that I bring you back. 'She'll never be yours' he taunted. 'I've seen how she pretends in the pictures in _The Daily Prophet_. She fakes being happy, but that's not her real smile. I've seen the real one often enough to know when she's forcing it.' He kicked me in the stomach. 'And if she ever finds out what you've done tonight, she'll never touch you again. You'll have to put her under the Imperius Curse to get her to dance with you.' And then he laughed, because we all know the Imperius Curse doesn't work on you." He looked down at the ground suddenly, as if his concentration had been broken. He turned slowly to face me. "That's why I've been home for over an hour but haven't been up to see you. My skull was cracked and right arm was broken, I was nauseous from hitting my head and my stomach needed to empty itself of all the blood I'd swallowed."

I hadn't moved from my previous position, my hand was still hovering over my mouth. He turned to face me.

"Oh, Draco," I dropped my hand from my mouth, and stepped towards him. He raised a hand up to stop me.

"You won't want to touch me, remember?" he said.

I stopped in my tracks. He was serious.

"What did you do?" I asked slowly, not really wanting to know.

He didn't answer.

"That's right, you can't tell me," I sighed. "Well, then there's know way to know whether I'd ever touch you again, is there?"

I tried to make this sound cheerful. I failed. Draco just looked at me as miserable as ever.

"Why are you all of a sudden listening to Harry Potter?" I asked, actually curious, but more wanting to get to the bottom of this brooding Draco bit.

"I have every reason to believe what he says," Draco said. "He knows you better than anyone, and you don't know what I did."

"No, I don't. But I also don't know all the things Harry has done. And I never will," I responded.

Draco looked at me, but didn't reply.

"Did you kill someone, Draco?" I finally asked.

"No."

"Did you torture anyone?"

"No, not personally."

"Then I don't care what you did."

He looked at me incredulously.

"But Potter said—"

"Well, Harry is wrong, like nearly every other man I know," I interrupted.

Draco didn't smile at my poke at he male sex, he even turned away and walked towards the window. I took a step towards him, though he couldn't see me

"Draco, are you okay?" I asked.

He didn't answer for a moment.

"He's in love with you, you know," Draco finally spoke, his voice cracking slightly.

"What?"

"Harry Potter loves you," he replied again, looking back at me for a moment, then returning to look at the closed curtains in front of him. "I know what a guy looks and acts like when he's dealing with situations involving the woman he loves, and Potter definitely acts like a man in love when it comes to you."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Draco, we are friends," I said. I strode towards him, reaching to put a hand on his shoulder. "He's like my brother, and has been since we met over seven years ago."

"Prove it," he said.

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously, retracting my hand.

"Prove that he's nothing more than just a friend," Draco turned to face me.

"And how do you expect me to do that?" I asked. "No wait, I don't even want to know," I waved him away with my hand, turning to walk back towards the couch. "I don't have to prove anything to you."

I picked up the book I'd been reading from the couch as well as my tea from the coffee table.

"Don't pretend your upset and wounded in order to get me to kiss you or love you or whatever you had planned. I'm not so easily manipulated, and I won't stand for it. What's more, I am yours whether I like it or not, Draco. If there were ever a fight over me between you and Harry, you'd win by default. We're betrothed. I belong to you. What do _you_ have to worry about?" I turned on my heel and headed out the door.

"Your heart."

I stopped in my tracks, whipping around to face him.

"What?"

"I worry about who your heart belongs to," he replied. "I want your heart, Bella. I don't want to own you. But I do want to be given your heart. And that's something only you can give."

I stared at him for a moment, before exhaling huffily and leaving the library, closing the door behind me with a little unnecessary force. I willed my feet to move down the hall, away from the library, towards the room that was designated as mine. But my feet weren't listening to me. They remained rooted to the spot. The door behind me remained shut. Could I really be angry with Draco? He really just wanted me to love him back. I grappled with myself for a moment, before turning to face the door to the library I had just exited. I was so close to it, my nose nearly brushed the wood in front of me. I took a deep breath, placing my hand on the door knob. It turned under my hand, though I hadn't twisted my wrist. The door flung open and Draco nearly bowled me over, but just before colliding into me, he skidded to a halt. We were so close that I could feel the air from his exhaled breath brush across my nose.

"You didn't leave," came Draco's observation, his voice was soft, just above a whisper.

"No."

He pulled me into a hug suddenly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into my hair.

"I have every right to be angry with you for trying to manipulate me," I said to him. "But I realize that under no circumstances can I be angry with you for wanting me to love you as you love me."

"I'm so sorry," he said. "You were right that I was out of line to demand you prove somrthing you have no control over."

I pulled away from him. "And, Draco, I care for you, and I will work with you to make our life together as happy as possible. But I am not in love with you. And for that, I am truly sorry."

In response to this, he just nodded his head and pressed a kiss onto my forehead.

We began to walk down the hall towards dinner. I let him take my empty tea mug from my left hand so it was empty and could be held by his right hand. A small smirk spread across his face after a moment.

"Why are you smiling?" I asked.

"You said you aren't in love with me," he said.

"Uh huh," I replied, not seeing the big deal.

"But you didn't say 'I don't love you,'" he specified, looking at my face.

I didn't return his gaze, but kept my eyes looking forward down the hall.

"And you didn't say, 'I'll never love you,'" he said hopefully.

"You are correct in your observations," was my only reply.

_AN: Sorry it took so long for the update. I am continuing to write, so don't you fret. There will be more updates, they will just be few and far between until I have breaks from school. I should be able to update over Thanksgiving and Christmas. _

_Three other notes:_

_I skipped through most of the summer to get things moving. I did not forget about Draco and Harry's birthdays. I had things planned for these two days, but they weren't terribly important to the overall story. Narcissa took Bella shopping for Draco's gift. She and Lucius also held a huge ball at Malfoy Manor for Draco's birthday. Bella gave an envelope to Snape at one of the lessons to give to Hermione. It held a birthday note for Harry as well as some money and instructions on what to buy so that Hermione could actually obtain the gift for Bella and give it to him in her stead. Voldy was basically in a pissy mood for all of Harry's birthday, and everyone knew why. It made for a very uncomfortable day at Malfoy Manor._

_If you have ANY questions regarding Bella as a character, how she fits into the original canon, any character traits, please ask! I'd love to tell you all about her, provide more information on her background, but a lot of it doesn't fit into the story. Much like Rowling and her characters, I know everything about Arabella, but not everything can be conveyed in the story. So just ask! I will respond. :D_

_For you Twilight fans. My Bella is not in any way related to Isabella Swan. Sorry. This is not a cross-over. _

_Thanks! Please review!_


	22. Chapter 22: The Letter

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—he, the other characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine!

**XXII. The Letter**

September meant that Hogwarts was back in session. Snape was very rarely at the Manor anymore, seeing as he was still serving as Headmaster. The Carrows also disappeared to go teach Muggle-hating Studies and Dark Arts Class, which was no great loss in my opinion. So one Friday morning, when I was reading in the library, it was a huge surprise to me when Snape entered the library accompanied by Lucius Malfoy.

"Good morning," I said with a faint smile, slightly concerned. "What a pleasant surprise seeing you here during the school week."

"Your father would like to see you," Lucius said coldly.

I looked from Snape to Lucius and back at Snape.

"Something is wrong," I stated.

Neither man replied.

"What's wrong?"

"We are to bring you down to the ballroom so your father may speak with you," Snape replied vaguely.

"Speak with me, or at me?" I asked daringly.

Lucius looked scandalized, but Snape ignored my last comment: "Come," he said forcefully.

I stood and placed my book down, open-faced to keep my page, on the spot where I had previously been seated. Snape stood on one side of me and Lucius on the other as we walked down the hall toward the stairwell.

When we arrived at the ballroom, Snape knocked thrice upon the large door before entering. The room was barely lit, but full of the Dark Lord's followers. Lucius broke off to take his place in the circle, leaving Snape walking next to me as I walked the length of the room towards my father.

"What'd I do this time?" I murmured.

Snape didn't answer and made no indication he had heard me.

"What was that, little one?" my father called from his seat at the head of the room.

"Nothing, Father," I said.

"Now, now, don't lie, my child. You know full well how we punish liars here," he said in a sickly pleasured voice.

"I was merely wondering what I had done wrong to deserve being escorted by two of your most trusted followers as a prisoner might be," I responded a little too cheekily.

"Have you done something to deserve imprisonment, Arabella?" asked my father.

Snape took his place next to my father, in the place of honor at his right.

"I don't believe so, Father," I responded, acting more confident than I felt.

"Than there shouldn't be a problem," my father said. "I merely wanted to discuss the delivery of the post this morning."

"The post?" I asked.

"You received a letter," he stated.

"I don't think I did," I responded, puzzled.

My father held up an envelope.

"How come it wasn't delivered to me?"

"I have all the mail checked, little one," came his reply.

"You opened my mail?" I asked incredulously.

"Of course I did. I'm your father."

"Complete non sequitur!" I exclaimed. "Being my father does not give you the right—"

"Now, now, Arabella," he cut me off, using the sickly smooth voice I associated with manipulation. I swallowed the words I'd been about to speak. "You know I'm only looking out for your best interests. What if the letter had contained some violent sort of spell?"

"Did it?" I asked.

"No, but it does contain a very cryptic message," came his reply.

"Oh?" I feigned surprise. If anyone was going to write me a letter of any substance, it would have to be cryptic.

"Yes. I was hoping you could illuminate us all," he said, extending the hand that held the letter.

I didn't move, but stared at the cream colored parchment clutched in his bony hand.

"Come, Arabella," he said. A shiver ran down my spine.

I approached his chair on the dais and took the letter from him. On the front envelope was written my full name, in flowing calligraphy that could only belong to one person.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Lord Voldemort asked me after a moment.

Very slowly, I turned the envelope over. On the back, where the letter had been sealed was a piece of melted wax that was pressed with the symbol of a simple star. I lifted the open flap of the envelope and pulled out a piece of parchment folded perfectly to fit inside the envelope. On it was Hermione's formal calligraphy, the kind she saved for parties and Christmas cards because it took so long to form the letters. I'd tried to bribe her one Christmas break spent at Hogwarts to teach me how to write in calligraphy, but neither of us had the patience to deal with my terrible scrawl.

"I think we all know who it is from, do we not?" he called out to his followers, who all sniggered wickedly. "Why don't you read it aloud?"

"I believe the letter is addressed to me, and thus the message is meant for me alone, Father."

"That was not a request, Arabella," was his forceful reply.

I nodded, taking a gulp of air and clearing my throat before speaking aloud:

_"_It reads:

_Dearest Kore,_

_ I wanted to drop you a note to see how things are going, as well as convey a few messages._

_ 'When I was younger, so much younger than today...'_

_ 'Oh, come and stir my cauldron, and if you do it right...'_

_¿__Cuántos hay?_

_ 'Que llueva, que llueva, el quetzal está en la cueva..."_

_ 'How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.'_

_ 'Margot, Margot, Margot!'_

_ 3-7-9-1_

_ 6-2-4-4-2_

_ 'To Annie. With love, Daddy Warbucks'_

_ 'My dear, I don't give a damn.'_

_ 'We named the _dog_ Indiana.'_

_ 'Do. Or Do not. There is no try.'_

_ We miss and love you._

"It's signed 'Athena,' 'Helios' and 'Zeus'," I finished.

My father reached out a hand to take the letter from me.

"What does it mean?" my father asked me.

"You mean you don't know?" I asked, trying to hide the sarcasm I felt rising in my anger.

"I have tried every spell to reveal a hidden message, there is none. So the message must be in the words. The letter was meant for you to understand, so I don't doubt you will be able to decode it."

"Perhaps you have too much faith in me, Father," I replied.

"You mean to say this all appears as nonsense to you as well?" he challenged.

"Well, it's a bunch of inside jokes and mostly Muggle references," I said vaguely.

"Oh? And what might those be?" he asked calmly. His calm demeanor was slightly unnerving. I was expecting him to be upset, angry or wicked all around.

"It would take a long time to explain the ones I understand and decipher the ones I don't," came my answer.

The hall was filled with silence for a moment. My father was staring me down, and it was really hard to stare back into the red slits that should have been the brown eyes he was born with.

"Well, why don't we spend some time go through them all together?" he asked, through his teeth.

"I fear that would bore you and nearly every one else in the room, Father," I stated.

"I doubt that."

"Why don't you let me take the letter, figure out what it all means, and get back to you?" I suggested.

"I don't think so, my child. You might find a message of substance and relay a false message to me instead."

"You don't trust me, Father?" I asked as if I were deeply wounded.

"Not when it comes to Harry Potter."

"You could use Veritaserum on me," I suggested.

A smile spread across my father's lips, "You are immune to Veritaserum, my child."

"Oh darn, I forgot!" I replied, the sarcasm as thick as I could dare.

I was surprised when I heard his laugh. High-pitched and wicked, but amused nonetheless.

"More and more like your mother with each passing day," came his reply.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I said softly.

Bellatrix Lestrange sniffed from her spot in the circle of followers.

"Something wrong, Bella?" my father asked.

"Your daughter shows too much disrespect, my Lord. She needs to learn her place," she said.

"Perhaps it is _you_ who needs to learn her place, Bellatrix. _I_ am the father here. Are you questioning my ability to parent?"

"No!" came her quick reply, her voice asking forgiveness before the words escaped her mouth. "No, of course not, my Lord, I was merely observing..."

"That my daughter is acting like any teenager towards an authority figure?"

Bellatrix shut her mouth.

"Very good," he returned his gaze toward me as he handed the parchment back to me. "Now, Arabella, my sweet, why don't you start at the beginning, and line by line, explain the meaning of the letter to me?"

I took the letter from him, but didn't look away.

"Is that a request, Father?"

"No."

"Didn't think so," I said, bowing my head towards the words on the page.

I spent nearly an hour going through each line of the darn letter explaining what each reference was to or from. Most of them I recognized. A few I understood. When I could, I lied. There was no clear message in the letter as far as I could tell, just vague references to Muggle movies, songs and inside jokes between my three best friends and myself.

"There is no further meaning to the letter?"

"Not so far as I can tell," I said, raking my right hand down my face as he took the letter from me again. I felt like he had asked that question 15 times already.

"You are tired," was his next observation.

"Yes, father," I said wearily.

"You are dismissed, then," he stated simply.

"Thank you," I sighed.

I looked at him expectantly.

After a moment of silence, he laughed. "You want the letter?"

"Yes, well, of course I do! It's mine," I reasoned.

"No, Arabella," he responded simply.

"But—but why?" I sputtered.

"It doesn't matter why. No—" and as I opened my mouth to argue, he raised his voice further, "And if I find out you have deceived me today—that there is meaning here you know of that you didn't not reveal—you will not like the consequences."

"Do I ever, Father?"

He laughed, a cruel, high-pitched laugh that raised the hair on the back of my neck.

"No, I suppose not. I suppose I'm the only one who ever does."

I walked quickly back to the library. I immediately pulled a piece of parchment and quill and ink from the desk against the far wall and stood there scribbling down everything of the letter I could remember. I was pretty sure I remembered it verbatim, or nearly. When I'd finished, I called Trinky and asked for a tray of tea and sandwiches to be brought up to me, and then I sat myself down at the long wooden table in the center of the library and prepared myself to be there for a while. I read through my pathetic excuse for a replication of the letter several times. After a cup of tea and a peanut butter and honey sandwich, I lifted the quill once again and began jotting down notes beside the lines of the letter.

Kore is another name for Persephone, the Greek Goddess of the Underworld who was abducted by Hades. A small smile spread across my face. Clever. Even funnier to debate who was Hades: Draco or Father? The next line was self-explanatory—they wanted to indicate there was a message present, not just jibberish. "When I was younger, so much younger than today" referred to the first line of the Beatles' song "Help." Help. They were asking for help from me? How would I be able to help them?

"Oh, come and stir my cauldron, and if you do it right" was totally a reference to Celestina Warbeck's song that Mrs. Weasley loved so much. But beyond that, I couldn't think of any significance. The thought of Mrs. Weasley singing that song did put a smile on my face, though. The next two lines were beyond me. I'd never taken Spanish and remembered very little French from my days in grade school. Narcissa Malfoy had been ordered to translate them by my father, saying the first line meant "How much is there" or "how many are there" and the second was a children's song about rain. I couldn't think of why Hermione would pick Spanish if she knew I didn't know the language. She must have assumed one of the Death Eaters knew the language. How much or how many? How much or how many what? The children's song must have been random, like the Celestina Warbeck song, not having a significance at all.

"'How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.'" I was starting to feel stupid. I had no idea where this quote was from. But it was familiar. Vaguely. And I could specifically hear Hermione's voice saying it. Coupled with something like, "Isn't that wonderful?" She'd put quotes around it, meaning someone else had written it for certain. But who? If I'd learned anything from attempting to decipher the above lines, every other one had a meaning and thus the next one meant nothing. "Margot! Margot! Margot!" It was in quotes as well. I was immediately reminded of "Marcia! Marcia! Marcia!" From T_he Brady Bunch_. That stupid American show about the huge family, with the middle sister, Jan, who hated the older sister, Marcia because she was so much more popular and what not. Rubbish. But I was positive the girl's name was Marcia, not Margot. Margot was a terrible name. I'd always felt bad for Anne Frank's sister being named Margot.

Wait.

Anne Frank. That's where the improving-the-world quote came from!

And then I read the next line. 3-7-9-1. Seemingly random numbers. The next line was easy. 6-2-4-4-2 were the numbers that Harry dialed on the pay phone in order to get into the visitor's entrance of the Ministry of Magic at the end of Fifth Year. They spelled "Magic." 3-7-9-1 spelled nothing. I really hoped that was all there was to those numbers, because I was not going to be able to figure out the 3-7-9-1 bit. _Hermione_, I thought to myself, heaving a sigh, _ you are much too clever and well-read for me._ Well, there are seven Weasley children, and 9 is Hermione's social number in Ancient Numerology. And there's one Hogwarts slash 1 Dark Lord slash 1 Harry Potter slash...too many things that there are only one of. I scratched that idea. I thought for another moment or two. There are three Chasers, seven members on a Quidditch team, there were nine players on the Gryffindor team in our 6th year and only 1 seeker/1 keeper. Yes? Quidditch seemed completely irrelevant. I took a deep breath and began again. There's one God. Three in one—Father, Son, Holy Ghost, or the Three Wise Men. God made the world in 7 days, there were 7 years of famine and 7 of plenty in the story of Joseph, there are 7 deadly sins, there are 7 suicides in the Bible, and 7 days of feast in the Passover. Jesus dies in the 9th hour on the cross, he appears 9 times to his disciples and there are 9 spiritual gifts elaborated on by Paul. Okay, but really, every number had significance of some sort in the Bible, so I was no closer to getting an explanation out of that.

I decided to move on and come back.

"To Annie, With Love, Daddy Warbucks." That was easy, it was the inscription on the locket given to Annie by Oliver Warbucks in the musical _Annie._ "My dear, I don't give a damn" was from _Gone with the Wind_, the novel, not the movie. One of Hermione's beloved books, one I never read...of course! I knew the movie, though. The line was "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." Was the significance with "Frankly?" Or was this a quote to throw other readers off the track? I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. I was no closer to getting to the bottom of this than before.

"We named the _dog_ Indiana." Dog was underlined twice. Indiana Jones. I knew _that_ quote. And the next one, for that matter. But why Indiana Jones? It was the Indiana Jones movie where they were looking for the Holy Grail. The cup.

The cup!

Annie and the locket.

Anne Frank and the diary.

How many are there?

_Horcruxes!_ That's what they wanted help with. Finding the last of the Horcruxes. They knew what some were already and indicated that here. The Riddle diary, the locket from the cave, Hufflepuff's cup...we were missing the ring.

3-7-9-1. I laughed. Hermione and her literary references. How could she leave Tolkien out?

_"Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,_

_Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,_

_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,_

_One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne_

_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie._

_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,_

_One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them_

_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."_

I wouldn't have placed the numbers as corresponding to the poem without first knowing about the ring, though. I was pretty sure some of the letter was made to help me figure out the larger components (like the in the case of "Margot") or to throw an undesired reader off the trail (like the "come and stir my cauldron" rubbish). And the last quote, Yoda from _The Empire Strikes Back_. That was Harry. We'd used that quote a lot to refer to the fact that he was going to have to kill the Dark Lord and/or be killed in return. There was no trying in this war. It was do or do not. And ever since we'd used that quote first to refer to the prophecy, Harry and I'd used it to remind each other to never give up, no matter the consequences. It was a nice reminder at the end of a very cryptic message. Now that I'd figured out the letter, and the assignment attached to it, I had to get to work coming up with an answer.

Over the next several weeks I spent all of my free time in the library reading. I didn't know what I was looking for exactly, but I hoped something informative would turn up. I was almost positive that my father would not have given me access to a library full of information on how to defeat him, but I felt like I was actually doing something, or at least trying to do something, to help the others by looking through nearly every tome I could reach in that expansive room filled with dusty books. I did find a few interesting books, though none helpful in figuring out what Daddy Dearest was using as a host for pieces of his soul, which I kept out for my own personal reading pleasure, among them _Sonnets of a Sorcerer;_ A_ Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter;_ and a few books of children's fairy tales I found tucked in a corner, including _The Toadstool Tales _and _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._ I was excited to see what sort of tales the wizard children got to listen to or read before bed, especially in comparison with The Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales I was accustomed to.

Finally, when I was convinced I'd gone through every book, I did what Hermione always did when she was stumped. I pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, placing them in front of me neatly on the table. And I wrote a list of what I knew.

_Known objects:_

_The Diary—destroyed_

_The Ring—destroyed_

_The locket—missing_

_Assumed objects:_

_Something from every founder of Hogwarts_

_Gryffindor—sword?_

_Hufflpuff—the cup?_

_Ravenclaw-?_

_Slytherin—locket (see above)_

I sat for ten minutes racking my brain for what other information I knew. I crossed out Gryffindor's sword. _Father wouldn't turn something from his rival house's founder into a hiding place for his soul. He hates Gryffindor. _Not to mention the fact that it magically appeared to help Harry in the Chamber of Secrets. Yeah, so _not_ a Horcrux. I took a turn around the library to think before sitting down to write some more:

_Important places/Hiding places:_

_the Cave—the locket_

_Hogwarts—the cup or Ravenclaw's object_

_The Gaunt House—the ring_

_Riddle House—even though it's Muggle?_

_Malfoy Manor—the diary_

_Other notes:_

_Things important to Father: blood purity, Slytherin, power, immortality, dark magic_

I crossed out immortality. It was a little redundant seeing as it was on a list of Horcruxes—objects used to make one immortal.

_Nagini?_

Could Nagini be a Horcrux? I crossed her name out as well. He wouldn't trust a piece of his soul in something that could die itself, something that had a mind of its own. But then again, he had such control over Nagini, sometimes I thought they shared a mind. I put a small tick mark next to the crossed out name of his pet snake. It was a possibility. Now, if Father had entrusted a Horcrux with Lucius Malfoy, he probably gave one of his other favorite Death Eaters a Horcrux.

_Bellatrix Lestrange—house, vault, anywhere?_

His most loyal, for sure, would get a piece of his soul. She would rather die a thousand deaths than have something the Dark Lord gave her be taken or broken. He would trust her, if you could use the word "trust" with my Father. If Lucius was given one, so was Bellatrix. I made one last note on the page.

_The number 7. Magically significant. There have to be seven._

After writing this, I pulled out my wand, thanking Merlin I was now allowed to carry it during the day. I cast a spell to turn the ink invisible. It wouldn't keep anyone with a wand from being able to reveal it and read it if they were curious, but at least it wouldn't be as conspicuous. I folded the parchment over a few times and tucked it into the inner pocket of my robes, mentally reminding myself not to forget to take it out and put it with my other valuables beneath my bed tonight. It wouldn't do to have Trinky find it in the wash. And I still needed to figure out a way to get a message back to them!

Just as I had put away the extra parchment and quill so nothing look undisturbed, Draco walked into the library.

"Perfect timing," I said without thinking.

"Oh?" he asked.

"Yep," I thought fast to cover up my little blunder, "I was just heading back to my room, now you can carry these books for me like a nice gentleman."

"You hate other people doing stuff for you," Draco eyed me suspiciously.

"My arms hurt," I lied sarcastically to give Draco a hard time.

He poked fun at me, but grabbed the books I had stacked on the table. Just as we were exiting the library, a thought occurred to me.

"Hold on one second, there's one more book I want," I said to Draco, turning back.

I ran my hand along the bindings of the books looking for the familiar title. When I spotted it, I grabbed it and ran back towards the door. Draco took it from me, adding it to his stack.

"_Hogwarts, A History_?" he asked teasingly.

"Yeah, why?"

"How many times have you and Granger read it?"

"Too many," I said, laughing. _But still not enough_, I thought to myself smiling. If any book would have information on the founders of Hogwarts that might help in figuring out what Father, a man who's home was Hogwarts for so many years, would make a Horcrux out of, it would be that book. Hermione would be so proud.

_AN: Sorry it is short! But I wanted to get something posted to last you all till Thanksgiving break, when I will hopefully put up a longer update. As a result, I may have rushed putting this chapter up, and thus I apologize for it being slightly wordy/boring, but I've re-written it about three times, so I really just want it off my hands so I can move on. Thanks for putting up with it! Please review, I really love reviews...so so so much!_


	23. Chapter 23: Nightmares

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—he, the other characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine!

**XXIII. Nightmares**

_It was the summer before seventh year as I sat on the window seat in the breakfast room. Everyone was gathered in the drawing room across the main entrance to Malfoy Manor. I skimmed through Amarillo Lestoat's _A Vampire's Monologue,_ not really taking in anything I was reading. I heard the the crunch of gravel outside and the front door open and close. Two pairs of footsteps made their way into the entrance hall and to the drawing room. I sighed, closing the book finally, discouraged. I paced the room, my arms crossed in front of me. I don't know how many minutes passed, but I heard a scream from below. I jumped. It wasn't the first time I'd heard cries from the dungeon of Malfoy Manor, but I wasn't usually alone in dark room with the knowledge that all of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself were meeting across the hall. The door across the hall opened and closed once more, the pitter-patter of apologetic feet making their way to the door to the dungeons. I'd been shut up in this room while the meeting took place, my father not trusting me to stay in my room half a house away. This way, he could hear if I opened the door to the room and left. I was starting to feel more and more nervous as another scream from below reached my ears. I finally flung open the door to the breakfast room, making my way across the hallway. Just as I reached out to knock on the drawing room door it opened just enough to let an overly thin and exhausted looking Draco Malfoy through. _

_ "What are you doing out of the breakfast room?"_

_ "I heard screaming."_

_ "Everything is fine. Go back."_

_ "What's going on?"_

_ "None of your business, Arabella," he snarled._

_ "What's wrong with you? You are so short tempered anymore. What's gotten into you?" _

_ "Nothing. Now go back to the other room. We can hear you leave, you know. Stay there. Someone will get you when you can leave."_

_ "I want to go to my room," I stood my ground._

_ "No."_

_ "The screaming is _freaking_ me _out_," I admitted forcefully._

_ "It's nothing. Ignore it."_

_ "I can't."_

_ "Pretend it's Moaning Myrtle."_

_ "She whines and moans. This is screaming. Who is it, anyway? Why is he here?"_

_ The young man finally lost his temper, grabbing my arm and pulling me across the hall._

_ "Let go of me, Malfoy. I can walk perfectly fine myself," I said wrenching my arm from his grasp._

_ "Maybe. But you seem incapable of following instructions."_

_ "I just don't take demands from you," I countered._

_ I could hear a woman's voice from inside the drawing room. Her voice was frightened, imploring. I stopped, my eyes being drawn tot he drawing room door._

_ "Who—who is that? She sounds familiar," I asked Draco, unable to pull my eyes from the door._

_ "Come on, Ari," he said, trying to pull me away. I didn't listen, pulling my arm from his grasp._

_ "I know that voice!"_

_ In a few long strides I'd made it across the entrance hall, my hand gripped the cold bronze handle. I opened the door without thinking. Floating above an ornately carved table, suspended solely by magic and completely upside down was the Muggle Studies professor, Professor Burbage. There was a flash of green light and— _

My eyes snapped open, horrified. I struggled for a moment to breathe. This was the first time I'd dreamt about that experience since it had occurred, at which time I spent several sleepless weeks unable to fall or stay asleep. Draco had dragged me from the room just as I heard my father give Nagini the order for her dinner. But it was enough to know the ex-Professor's fate, my mind ran wild with possible images of the actual event, images I was unable to remove from my imagination. I sat up in my bed, now in the present, rubbing my face and trying to think of something else. I got up and splashed cold water on my face before returning to bed. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, only to have my eyes snap back open in fear two seconds later. My inability to sleep didn't surprise me. I spent the next hour and half trying every technique I could think of to fall asleep. Nothing worked. What did surprise me was I was my inability to calm down. My heart raced, my breathing was labored and I was unable to find a comfortable position in my bed and stay there for more than a minute or two. It wasn't just that I couldn't rid myself of the image, but I also felt panicky and scared, hyper-aware of each creak of the house, every hoot of an owl, any rush of wind through the trees.

I couldn't stand to be alone in the room any longer. I hopped once more from my bed, pushing my feet into my slippers and pulling my dressing robe on. Without any pretense of sneakiness, I flung the door to my room open and headed in the direction of Draco's room. I didn't particularly want to bother him with my nightmare, but I knew he was the only person I could take comfort in right now, the only person who would be able to calm me down so I could fall asleep again, the only one who could distract me so I wouldn't think about—I shook my head, trying to focus on my footsteps as I drew nearer and nearer to his room. I slowed up as I reached the door I knew to be his room. I'd never been in it before. I laughed to myself, how many months had I lived in Malfoy Manor, and I'd never seen Draco's room? It seemed so odd to me. Yet I knew perfectly well where it was. What a paradox. I knocked lightly on the door and waited. There was no answer. I knocked again, a little louder. I really didn't want to wake Draco up, but I didn't want to go back to my room alone more. Still no answer.

"Draco?" I called. "It's me, Bel—Arabella."

There was a sharp intake of breath, a sniffle and the sound of a book being knocked to the floor. I heard the door unbolt with a loud clunk. I took that as an invitation to enter. The room was dark, except for the light from the fireplace, which set an eery glow upon the room, most especially the figure sitting on the couch directly in front of the fire. I stopped in my tracks halfway from the door to Draco, awaiting his reaction to my presence. None came. His blond head was buried in his hands and his back was curved, his elbows balancing on his knees.

"Draco?" I said, a little more loudly.

He seemed to be shaking, quivering almost. I approached him gently from behind, standing behind the back of the couch. I placed a hand on the middle of his back. He lifted his face form his hands ever so slightly.

"Can I help you?" he asked bitterly.

"I— " my troubles seemed so insignificant right now, and I felt as if I were intruding on something private and sacred. "I had a—never-mind."

He put his head back in his hands; I turned to leave, but stopped halfway through my journey to the door.

"Draco, what's wrong?" I asked quietly.

"Nothing is wrong," came his harsh reply.

"Rubbish."

"Just leave."

"I—uh, " I really didn't want to be alone right now. "I can't."

He scoffed.

"I had a nightmare, and I can't be alone in that room," I admitted, embarrassed.

"A nightmare, about what?" he asked.

"Professor Burbage."

If it was possible, his body drooped even farther into itself, as if he were in physical agony. I thought I heard a sob.

"Draco—"

"No, Arabella, don't—"

"—what's wrong?"

"—ask."

I walked around the side of the couch, and sat next to him. He continued to cover his face. I watched him for a moment.

"Just leave," his voice dripped with anguish. I watched a tear drop to the floor.

"No."

"I don't want you here right now," he bit out.

"I know," I sighed.

He sat up suddenly, his face seemingly emotionless, his eyes betraying something more, "So why don't you just go?"

"Because I care about you, and no one should have to be alone when he is this upset. I want to know what's wrong," I said.

"Nothing is wrong."

"That's a lie, and we both know it."

He was silent, returning to his previous position. I waited, not moving, barely breathing, hoping he would talk to me. I waited. As I concentrated on being patient for Draco, my breathing calmed and I noticed my heart was beating at a slower pace. Focusing on someone else was drawing my attention away from my own fears. We sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime.

"I can't do this," Draco broke the silence suddenly and without warning.

I waited for him to elaborate. He didn't.

"Can't do what?" I whispered carefully.

A short sob escaped his lips.

"Hey, hey now," I said, putting an arm around him and leaning over in attempt to see his face. "It's okay."

"No it's not," he said.

"Well, then it will be," I suggested.

"I can't _do_ this, Bells," he emphasized again.

"What, Draco?" I asked. "What can't you do?"

"Murder. Torture. It's consuming me. I can't do it. I can't sleep or eat or think straight."

I rubbed his back in small circles, not knowing how to reply.

"I thought it would be such an honor to become one of your father's followers. It would secure my family's security and safety from any possible future wrath of the Dark Lord," he said. He laughed bitterly. "Not to mention my father would have disowned me, and your father would have killed me if I hadn't."

"You really didn't have a choice," I summarized.

He half-laughed, half-sobbed. "No, not really. I wanted my father's approval so badly."

"Something you may never obtain," I added.

"No," he agreed.

"Draco, you need to find approval within yourself. You are the only person you need to impress."

"Well, and you."

"Why me?" I asked, curious. After the question left my lips, I wanted to stuff them back into my mouth. This conversation wasn't about me. And I'd turned it into one about me.

"Because I'd be lost without you," came his simple answer.

I didn't know how to answer. I leaned my head against his shoulder, waiting to see if he continued.

"I should have listened to the old coot" he rubbed his forehead.

"Who?"

"Dumbledore. I should have taken his offer."

"What offer?"

"You mean you don't know?" Draco pulled back facing me. His face was basically unmarred from his tears, save a few tear tracks. He wasn't an ugly crier like I was, obviously. I shook my head in response to his question. He leaned over his knees again, looking into the fire, his hands clasped in front of him.

"When I went to the Astronomy Tower to kill him as ordered by your father, he offered me a way out. He offered me and my mother protection."

The bottom of my stomach dropped out. I was glad he wasn't looking at me, but into the flames dancing in the hearth. I was suddenly filled with anguish. How different my life would be if Draco had taken that protection! If he had, I wouldn't be here. Dumbledore would be alive. I would be with my friends instead of trapped here with the Death Eaters and Darth Daddy-kins.

"Why didn't you take it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I was afraid to know the answer.

He continued to stare into the fire. I didn't know if he hadn't heard me or had ignored me, but I let it slide.

"You don't _have _to do this, you know," I said, returning to the original discussion.

"Oh, really?" he asked derisively, looking back at me. "How exactly does one back out of a lifetime oath to obey and be faithful to your father?"

"Leave. Don't come back," I said. Draco looked back into the fire. "Take me with you, of course," I tried to say it jokingly, but Draco didn't smile, "But you don't have to stay here."

"Where will I go?" he asked, his voice neutral.

"To the Order. They will protect us."

"They'll protect you, and kill me. After all I've done, they'll never trust me," he covered his face with his hands again. "And what about my mother?"

"We'll bring her, too." I wanted to comment on the fact that the Order wouldn't dare kill Draco, but he cut me off.

"She'll never leave my father."

I didn't have a response to this, so I waited once more for him to speak.

"I made this choice. I have to continue on."

"No!" I said hurriedly. "You don't have to continue on when you don't want to. You can choose a different path!"

"I swore to be loyal to the Dark Lord, and a Malfoy keeps his word."

"But you are miserable! And you took that oath before you were even of age!"

"It doesn't matter," his anguished reply came out muffled from between his hands.

I slid from the couch to the floor, kneeling in front of him. I put my hands on his forearms, attempting to pry his arms from his face so I could look into his eyes.

"Yes it does! You don't have to do this anymore, if you choose not to. Draco, I know you are better than this. You are capable of so much more. You are intelligent and caring. You have helped me out of so many sticky situations that I've stupidly gotten myself into. You've always been there for me and given me nothing but kindness and love. You are _not_ an evil person."

He released a sob.

"So don't act like one!"

He was silent, but his body shook with the force of his sobs.

"A great man once said, 'It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.'"

"I made my choice that night I denied the offer of Albus Dumbledore. I chose this. And it is an honor to serve the Dark Lord." The last sentence he spoke went through me like a knife. It was the party line, obviously rehearsed and ingrained into his mind.

"You can't tell me you believe that it is the better choice now! You don't believe this blood purity crap in actuality, do you?"

He took a deep breath, wiping his face clean with the sleeve of his robes. "Of course I do."

"I don't believe you," I said, looking at him. His gray eyes were cold and the sneer that had so frequented his features in school had returned.

"Then you are a fool," he said scathingly.

I looked at him questioningly. He was serious. I retracted my touch suddenly, as if I'd been bit.

"Yes, I suppose I am. But not for the reasons you think."

"Oh? For more than just one reason, then," he mocked me.

Tears filled my eyes, but I refused to look away from his intense gaze. "I'm not a fool for expecting better of you, because I've seen better of you. And I'm not a fool for knowing I could fall in love with a man who had made a wrong decision, especially if he decided to take the harder path to try to fix it."

Draco's sneer deepened as I paused, taking a deep breath in order to keep the tears from spilling over and down my cheeks.

"But I was most definitely a fool for thinking you could be that man."

I stood, only taking notice that the sneer had been wiped clean from his face as I exited the room without looking back.

Halloween was a grand affair. Narcissa planned an extravagant feast to rival the one we always had at Hogwarts. We sat around a huge table erected in the ballroom, the Death Eaters and all of their families attended. We enjoyed far too many rich foods and disgustingly delicious sweets before an hour of music and dancing. Though I thought about going back on it because of our fight, I kept my promise to behave properly with Draco. No one had any reason to suspect anything was wrong between us. His eyes were cold and gray and my smile was vapid and emotionless, but we were the perfect pretenders, mostly likely a result of years of practice. As soon as we were out of sight of anyone of importance, I would drop his hand like it was covered in bubotuber pus, and his neutral features would pull into a disgusted sneer.At one point in the night, I thought I caught Narcissa staring at us as if trying to place something that was different, but before I could think on it too long, Draco dragged me into another dance and she was interrupted by her sister asking a question.

November was cold, dreary, rainy, reflecting my mood perfectly. I hid away in my room and the library. I read as much as I could to try to figure out anything else I could to help Harry, Hermione and Ron. But even if I did discover something, how would I inform them? I read to distract myself from my reality and my loneliness. I took nearly all of my meals alone in my room, and I didn't stop reading as I took slow bites of food. Draco no longer came to wake me and eat breakfast with me. He didn't stop by before my bedtime to chat. My regular lessons had stopped since Hogwarts had begun again. I still had tea with Narcissa everyday, often joined by another pureblood family. Father continued my instruction in the Dark Arts, which I found harder to handle as the month continued on. I couldn't tell if it was because of my lack of lessons in Defense with Snape or my lack of Draco—lack of a person to talk to, since we no longer talked unless forced to. I found it harder and harder to get to sleep, and when I did get to sleep, it was more often than not disrupted by nightmares. Professor Burbage reappeared more than once, as well as nightmares from the Department of Ministries in which I wasn't able to make it to Neville in time and he wasn't just tortured but killed. The battle at the end of Sixth year also reoccurred during the sleepless nights I spent. The attack on Bill would replay over and over until Greyback leapt at my own throat, a sick grin slapped across his face, at which point I would wake up screaming.

"Arabella!" My father rushed into my room the first time this occurred. His wand was at the ready, Lucius and Draco followed shortly after, their rooms being nearest to me.

When they realized I'd just had a nightmare, I expected them to laugh at me, but Father handled it quite well, like any normal father. He sat on my bed beside me, wiping the matted hair from my face, assuring me I was safe and sound, that no one would let any harm come to me. That it was just a figment of my imagination. He tucked me back into bed, kissed me on the forehead and sent me a strange smile as he closed the bedroom door behind me. I avoided Draco's gaze that night and the next two times this happened. After the third time, though, they stopped bursting into my room. They realized it was just a nightmare and let me be. I didn't know whether that was more painful or more comforting since I didn't have to pretend everything was fine.

As November came to a close in all it's depressing glory, Narcissa turned to me during tea time bringing up a most dreaded subject. "So the holidays are coming up..."

I barely suppressed a groan.

"...and I was thinking we should spend one day this week doing the shopping, just you and me. We can make a day of it, just us girls."

She sounded way too excited about it.

"How much shopping is there to do, really?" I asked.

"Well, I need to get gifts for everyone. Plus we should pick out the centerpiece for Christmas Eve dinner, and then there's the Christmas Ball for which you need a dress!"

"Oh dear," I said. "Quite a bit, then."

She nodded. "You sound disappointed." Her voice held it's own flavor of disappointment.

"I just sort of dread holiday shopping," I remarked.

"Why is that?"

"I'm always afraid I'll forget someone, or pick something out for someone that she or he doesn't like, doesn't want, or I'll accidently wrap something and give it to the wrong person, or someone will give a gift to me and I won't have a gift for them. It's just way too stressful."

Narcissa laughed. It was her sweet laugh, the one which indicates entertainment, not disdain.

"Oh, Arabella. You are too sweet!" I looked at her strangely. "You worry far too much. I think you should just worry about getting a gift for Draco and one for your father. And if you see something that calls to be given to someone, pick it up. But if not, don't."

And then she said the most un-wife-of-a-rich-Pureblood-Death-Eater-thing I've ever heard.

"Christmas isn't about gift-giving and receiving. It's about the birth of a savior, and love and family and slowing down to appreciate one another," she gave me a very motherly smile. "So just give love to the people you love, and all will be well."

I nodded solemnly. I suddenly understood where Draco got the side of his personality that didn't mirror his father perfectly. I knew she was right, but I was still filled with anxiety. Father and Draco were the two hardest people to shop for on the planet. Not to mention, Draco and I couldn't even look at each other, let alone think of each other in the gift and love-giving spirit of the season.

"Is everything alright?" Narcissa asked quietly, picking up on my nervous expression.

"Yes, yes of course!" I insisted with a phony smile.

She nodded, raising the tea cup from her saucer to take a sip, but still eyeing me. I took an un-ladylike gulp of tea.

"Well, no, not really," I admitted after returning the cup to its saucer. "Not at all, actually."

Narcissa looked at me, without saying a word. It was an invitation to speak if I wanted to, but she was being neither intrusive nor pushy about it. I appreciated that.

"Draco and I—" I began before I'd even decided what needed to be said and what needed to be kept secret. "We had a bit of a spat, I guess."

"Oh?"

"And I don't want to give any details, because I don't want to betray his trust," I supplied quickly. I didn't know if that was a lie or not, but it worked for now.

"Of course," she nodded, taking a long time to blink her eyes.

"But, we just—we can't even look at each other we're so—I don't know if the right word is angry, or frustrated, or just awkward—but we've always been able to duke it out and move on."

She looked at me and blinked twice, waiting patiently. I looked down into my hands, lowering my voice.

"But this time I fear we'll never get over it."

I looked back up at her timidly.

"Do you want to?" she asked. "Resolve things, that is?"

"Yes of course!" I said quickly. And I was surprised to find I was being completely honest. "But the question is, does he? I said some hurtful things. I mean so did he, but—"

"Arabella," Narcissa interrupted me before I could continue. "You have a good, sweet, kind heart."

I smiled in thanks and looked down embarrassed.

"But you are stubborn and opinionated," she continued.

I laughed, looking up to find her giving me a kind smile.

"And, unfortunately, so is my son," she conceded. "But I also know that my son loves you very much and has for a long time. And you two have been through a lot together and have forgiven each other for a lot in the past. I don't doubt it will happen again this time, no matter what it was that you fought over."

I looked down into my hands, doubting Narcissa's knowledge of her son for the first time, for I didn't believe that he would forgive me or that he still loved me.

"Give it time," she said. I didn't respond, still unbelieving. "And the Christmas spirit," she added, giving me a wink so quickly I nearly missed it.

I laughed. "Thanks, Narcissa."

There was a pause as she patted my hand and refilled my tea cup.

"Alright, so shall we go the first weekend in December? Saturday, maybe?" And she was back to the business at hand.

I looked forward to the first snow every year. It always appeared when it seemed I needed it most, when things got so bad, I needed the skies to open up and release the perfectly formed flakes so that I could go outside and revel in the beauty of winter. My last year at Hogwarts, the first snow decided to take place between Double Potions and Double Dark Arts. I took the liberty to go outside during the passing time and enjoy the peaceful quiet of the Hogwarts grounds as the first flakes hit the ground and began to accumulate. I was late to Dark Arts class and Carrow nearly lost it when I told him why I was late. Draco had to remind him what my last name was to get me out of the Cruciatus Curse and detention as a punishment. Instead, I just had detention...and a scathing letter from my father the following Monday.

The first snow didn't appear until December, and I had a feeling when I went to bed that night that I was going to sleep well. I fell asleep almost instantly, something that hadn't occurred for months. I had a dreamless sleep, and was only disturbed when my eyes snapped open suddenly in the middle of the night. I didn't know what had caused me to awaken, but I was relieved that my sleep was disturbed by something other than a nightmare for once. I rolled over to look at the clock, but before my eyes reached the nightstand I caught a glimpse of the grounds outside of Malfoy Manor, and a huge grin spread across my face. The beautiful gardens were frosted with few centimeters of snow, and more soft, puffy flakes were dancing lazily to the ground. Without a second thought, I flung the sheets off of my body and clamored towards the closet. Over my pajamas, I pulled on some sweatpants emblazoned with the Hogwarts seal. I pulled on a Muggle sweatshirt and my warmest set of robes, a hat, gloves and boots.

As quietly as possible, I pulled open the heavy door to my room, checking to see the hall was clear. I trod silently down the hallway towards the main stairwell and down to the sliding doors that led out to the gardens. Without my wand, I was forced to unlock the door by hand, and I looked over my shoulder as the lock thunked. Slowly and quietly, I slid the door open and stepped outside, sliding the door shut behind me. I wandered out into the garden, placing my feet carefully and watching my boots make perfect imprints in the snow. I lifted my head to the sky, opening up my arms and mouth, attempting to catch snowflakes in my mouth. An albino peacock fluttered down to settle on the low stone wall that separated the patio from the garden. I smiled, letting loose a short giggle and twirling around in a circle. I scooped up some snow in my hands, what little there was on the ground, and threw it into the air, twirling about once more. And then I just looked out onto the gardens, as the snow settled neatly into the pine needles and tree bushes, coating everything like powdered sugar. I blinked as snowflakes caught on my eyelashes, "Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes/Silver white winters that melt into springs/These are a few of my favorite things," I sang quietly to myself, so glad no one was here to admonish me for a Muggle song.

The smile that had been happily pasted onto my face fell quite suddenly when a half-dozen cloaked figures materialized in the garden, wands raised, surrounding me. I moved my arms up in a symbol of surrender.

I heard someone yell out a curse, and I ducked in just enough time to avoid it. Just as I hit the ground, a final figure materialized as well, his wand also raised, his feet set in a dueling stance. Another curse came barreling towards me, but the final figure blocked it swiftly with a silent shield. In less than a second his voice rang out sharply in the quiet night, "Lower your wands!"

Everyone did so immediately. I picked myself up slowly from the ground, brushing the snow that clung to my robes. I looked up at the final figure, the Dark Lord, who had not taken his glaring eyes from me since he'd apparated onto the grounds.

"_Inside. Now!"_ my father growled at me in parseltongue.

I moved to enter the Manor, sliding between two masked figures who stayed in their original positions, sensing my father following in my wake. He marched me into the drawing room. I turned to face him, feeling like my cheery hat was grossly out of place. I pulled it from my head, ashamed. My hair went with it and I attempted to brush the tangled strands into an acceptable position. Before any of the other Death Eaters could enter, my father waved his wand so the door slammed and locked behind him.

_"What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?"_ He bellowed.

"Enjoying the first snow," I muttered timidly.

"_Parseltongue!" _he demanded.

I repeated my previous answer in his desired language.

_"At 3 o'clock in the morning?"_ he raged.

I looked up at him.

_"I'm notified of an intruder in the middle of the night. I leave my bed to find you!—wandering around in the gardens—alone—in the middle of the night! You are lucky you weren't killed by the guard on duty immediately!"_

I looked down at my shoes, deciding not to point out that he'd been redundant about the "middle of the night" bit.

"_I look forward to the first snow every year..._" I started softly.

"_This may be the stupidest thing—what if someone had cast the killing curse?"_ his voice was still uncomfortably loud in his reprimand. _"What if I hadn't recognized you in your hat and coat?"_

I had no response, and I was unable to meet my father's gaze.

The Dark Lord sighed.

"_I think it's time for you to take on the responsibilities expected of you,_" he said.

I looked up at him questioningly. He looked from the tip of his wand to my left forearm.

"No!" I said a little too quickly.

My father looked taken aback, but only in a mocking manner. "_You don't want to take the Dark Mark, my child? Join your father in an attempt to preserve the integrity of the wizarding race?"_

"_No, it's not that, Father, it's just—_" my heart was racing, but my mind was moving slowly in an attempt to come up with an excuse.

"_What, Arabella_?" he asked. "_I think that this would be the perfect Christmas present._"

I suppressed a grimace, and took a deep breath:

"_I don't want to be like one of your Death Eaters, Father_," I said, in complete honesty. "_I'm your daughter, not your follower or minion. I shouldn't have to swear an oath of loyalty to you, I'm—_" I ground my teeth as I prepared to say this next phrase, "—_I'm loyal by blood._"

"_Oh?_"

"_I don't want to have to wear long sleeves to all the balls to cover my arm, and I don't want to have all of your other followers treat me like a new recruit. You don't have a Dark Mark, do you?_"  
"_Of course not_," he said.

"Did Mom?" I asked, this time in English on purpose.

He looked shocked that I should bring up my mother. She'd long been someone I was not to mention, a sore spot. He didn't answer, which was answer enough.

"_Then why should I? I'm your _daughter_,_" I said, and then finished with a whisper, "_Not a servant_."

My father contemplated me for a moment.

"_And how do you expect your followers to respect me as your heir, the person who's presumably being trained to take your place, should anything happen, if I'm put on their level by needing to take the Dark Mark_?" I asked.

He put up his hand to stop me from continuing, giving a solemn nod in resignation. I felt a surge of relief in my gut and suppressed a smile.

"Y_our behavior tonight has left much to be desired_," he said, his voice returning to normal, as normal as it could ever be.

"_I know, and I'm sorry!_" I exclaimed. "_I realize that what I did was foolish. I just, I've come to think of this place as home, and at home I should be able to wander into the gardens during the first snow and enjoy it like I've done every year. I just,_" I lowered my voice, "_I just didn't realize everyone would freak out and think I was an intruder. I guess I...forgot we were in a war_."

"_Something you would be loathe to forget_," my father reprimanded.

I nodded my head solemnly, thinking worse of myself than anyone else possibly could.

The force of the door slamming into its frame shook the picture against the wall such that it swung into a crooked position.

"Really!" said the young woman in the portrait indignantly. I sent her a glare from where I stood in the room, arms crossed in front of me. I heaved a sigh, pacing back and forth in the space between my bed and the couches in front of the fire.

"Argh!" I screamed, nearly at the top of my lungs. I was so angry with myself. More angry than I'd been when I bombed my second Potions exam Fifth Year. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling some strands from my pony tail.

How could I have been so stupid? Going out in the middle of the night in the middle of the war without protection, without telling someone, without even _thinking_ about the possible repercussions. Not to mention, I nearly got myself the Dark Mark out of this little stunt. I just barely thought fast enough to come up with a decent argument against that particularly dreadful "Christmas present" from my father, and who knew whether or not he'd change his mind? I stopped mid-way through my pacing and kicked the couch.

"Gaahhh!" I slid down the back of the couch, coming to sit in a little ball on the ground. I dissolved, against my own will, into tears. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I hit my head repeatedly against the back of the couch.

I gasped as there was a knock at the door and I wiped the tears from my face hastily with the back of my sleeve.

"Who is it?" I called, hoping my voice sounded calm.

"Draco," came his gruff reply. He opened the door without my permission.

I stood hastily so as not to reveal anything wrong.

"What's going on?" he asked rudely.

"Nothing," I replied simply. We still weren't talking.

"Oh," he replied, his eyebrows raised. "Well, then, could you keep it down a bit? You'll wake the whole house."

"Oh, yes," I replied bitterly, "Of course."

He nodded and bowed out. Just as the door was about to shut, it reopened and Draco's head appeared around the door frame.

"Bella?" he sighed, his voice a little softer. "Are you okay?"

"Why should you care?"

"Look, Bella..."

"No!" I stopped him before he could even start. "Just go away."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

I sent him a scathing look.

"Y-you look pretty upset," he reasoned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not with the likes of you," I said.

His face darkened. I turned around and waited for him to leave. He didn't.

"You're not gone yet?" I snapped at him. I heard him sigh.

"I care about you, and no one should have to be alone when she's this upset," came his reply.

I made a sound with the back of my throat in irritation, "What symmetry," I bit out sarcastically.

"Symmetry?"

"Oh, that I said that to you when you were upset. You refused my help and advice. And now you are saying it to me when I'm refusing your help."

"Look, Bella, about that fight..."

"The one we had a month ago, the one over which we can barely stand to be in each other's presence because of?" I asked.

"Yeah, that one," he said, looking at his shoes. "I'm sorry I got so angry, but what you ask of me isn't easy."

"Life isn't easy, Draco," I reminded.

"I know, but do you realize how impossible it would be to run away from this?"

"It wouldn't be impossible."

"It would be very difficult."

"The right path is usually the more difficult one. But it is never impossible. After going to Hogwarts for as many years as I did and being dragged on all of the adventures I was dragged on, I no longer believe in impossible."

"I'm no Harry bloody St. Potter," Draco growled.

"Where the hell did that come from?" I yelled at him.

"All the adventures, Hogwarts..."

"I don't think I mentioned his name, Draco. I would not even dream of comparing you to Harry. You are two completely different men, as exhibited by the choices you two have made during your lives."

"Choices, choices! I'm sick of hearing about choices!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

"'It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities,'" I quoted again.

"Who the hell said that?" Draco's voice was still raised.

"Albus Dumbledore," I said.

Draco seemed to deflate a little. He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"So why are you so upset?" he changed the subject.

I glared at him.

"Just spare me," he requested and I understood he didn't want to fight anymore. I was empathetic to the cause.

"The intruder in the gardens?" I asked, wondering if he already knew.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Was me," I admitted.

"What?" he said completely surprised, but rather amused.

"It's the first snow, I _have_ to go out during the first snow," I explained.

"At three in the morning?"

"Yes!" I said. He laughed. "And Father wants to give me a Christmas present," I continued.

"Well, yeah, he's your dad."

"The Dark Mark," I finished.

"Oh," Draco's smile disappeared.

"Yeah," I said. "But I think that I convinced him it would be detrimental to the cause."

"How'd you manage that?"

"By reminding him I'm his daughter and no one in the Riddle family, neither he nor my mother, has ever had the Dark Mark, and to give me one would put me on the level of his followers," I stated.

"Well, that's one way to do it," he said.

"Yeah, let's just hope he doesn't change his mind between now and December 25th," I said.

Draco nodded silently, looking into the hearth, though no fire was burning there.

I looked towards the clock, it was nearly five thirty.

"Is it even worth going to bed now?" I asked. "Or shall we just stay awake?"

"We could ask for some tea, some breakfast and a nice warm fire," Draco suggested.

"That suggests you are taking your breakfast with me," I pointed out.

"That's assuming you want me," he countered.

"That's assuming I forgive you," I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Do you?" he asked.

I cracked a slow smile. "I guess," I relented.

He stepped forward pulling me into a hug in which he picked me up and twirled me around.

"I hate fighting with you, Arabella," he said.

"Me too," I responded.

After placing me back on my feet he called for a house elf, requesting a fire, tea and some scones. We sat on the couch in front of the roaring fire, sharing a blanket and holding our mugs of steaming Earl Grey tea.

"So," he began. "What's been running through that ridiculous head of yours since the last time we talked cordially?"

"Ridiculous?" I exclaimed. "My head is most certainly not ridiculous!"

"That's a matter of opinion, love, and since it's your head, you won't realize its true quality. Trust me, someone who will give an honest, objective opinion. It's ridiculous."

"Honest and objective, huh?" I looked at him doubtfully.

"Oh, definitely," he responded.

"Well, then, Mr. Objective, if my head is ridiculous than yours is completely and positively absurd! I mean, from a completely honest and objective perspective."

"Absurd, you say?" he looked at me questioningly.

"Completely and positively!"

He cracked a smile, and it reached his eyes again, the sneer from school he'd been wearing for the last month had disappeared completely. As much as I was loathe to admit it, it was good to have Draco back.

_AN: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! I have two weeks till finals, so the next update will appear sometime after December 19. Thanks! (PS~Happy belated Thanksgiving to all of those in the States!) xoxo, CW._


	24. Chapter 24: Flashback, 7th Year

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—the characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine!

**XXIV. Flashback-7th Year**

I looked over my shoulder at the empty hall behind me, feeling a little too lucky to have made it to the 7th floor corridor without running into anyone undesirable: namely Peeves, Filch, a Carrow, Snape or Draco Malfoy. It seemed the number of people I needed to avoid had increased exponentially this year. Perhaps it seemed especially bad because there was no one to seek out for friendship. My three best friends had not returned this year, presumably out hunting Horcruxes; though word on the street was Ron had a bad case of Spattergroit. Snape had moved me into the Slytherin dormitory, on my father's orders, so I didn't get to hide away with Neville and Ginny during the evenings anymore. I paced three times in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls how to dance, thinking very carefully about what I wanted. Ever since we had used the Room of Requirement for D.A. meetings during 5th year, I'd found use for the room as well, to escape from everyone and get some alone time. Boarding school was one place where privacy from everything and everyone was exiguous at best.

A familiar pair of double doors appeared, dark wood with stain glass windows set with a scene of a shepherd with a lamb at his feet. I let a grin spread across my face as I reached for the dark braided handle of the left door and pulled it open just enough for me to slip through. A fire roared in the hearth against the left-hand wall. On the other side of the room were a few cushy chairs, much like what would be found in the Gryffindor common room, only with dark purple and green leaf upholstery. A few bookcases surrounded the little reading nook and a coffee table in the center was laden with a decorative tea set, completely empty since the Room of Requirement couldn't fabricate food. But I hadn't come here for the fire or the books. I turned back to the large oriental area rug near the fire. On it was a magnificent grand piano, it's lid open half-way. A small table to one side held a vase of beautiful pink lilies, a small wicker basket to the other side burst with piano books of every type. I sat down at the piano, adjusting the bench and flicking on the muggle-like lamp that was hovering wirelessly over the music stand.

I placed my hands on the keys, the smooth ivory felt cool against my warm fingers. I began to play Bach's Invention No. 1. It was always the first piece that came to mind, the warm-up piece I played for years, the piece I perpetually had memorized. It was sort of like Bach's Minuet in G, a regular standby for piano players and students. After playing some chord progressions and arpeggios, I pulled a book of theatre classics from the wicker basket, propping the music up so I could sight read some songs. I read through my favorites, singing along when I could. I'd missed the piano. I'd begged the headmistress at the orphanage to let me start lessons when I was really little, and I'd played at Christmas all of the carols for the other kids to sing along to. I remember spilling my hot chocolate on the piano bench one year, the brown liquid dripped all over my white tights that had sparkly snowflakes on them. I cried because I thought they were ruined. I wasn't able to play much once I began attending Hogwarts, and my ability to sight read and learn music decreased substantially when Christmas and summer were the only times I was around the piano. It dashed all hopes of a new baby grand piano for the orphanage that the headmistress had promised to ask from the "higher powers" for me if I kept playing through secondary school. Now, just finding a time and place to play was relaxing, even if a little disappointing since I couldn't play quite as well as I wished.

I flipped through the pages of the book, picking out another song, one of my favorites from Phantom of the Opera. I sang along, changing my choice of octave throughout so I could hit the notes comfortably, mentally cursing my lack of singing range and ability. Sometimes I really missed Muggle music. After living in a Muggle world for most of my life, having to live completely without it was a little weird—exciting and fascinating!—but weird. I loved the Room of Requirement for allowing access to some Muggle things, music, books and such. It was enough to balance the complete lack of anything else relating to my childhood life in the rest of the castle.

I played the last cadence and brought my hands down to my lap. A slow clap began, making me jump slightly in my seat on the piano bench. I looked up to the couches to see Draco Malfoy sitting in a wing-backed chair, his legs crossed, his trademark smirk on his lips.

"Merlin, Draco! I didn't hear you come in!" I exclaimed, my hand on my heart.

"I noticed," came his snide reply.

"How did you get in here anyway?" I asked suspiciously, "You'd have to know what to ask for."

"I could hear the piano down the hall," his smirk deepened. "That's all I had to ask for."

I nodded, though I still didn't quite believe him.

"You play well," he commented, rising from his chair.

"Thank you. I wish I played better, though," I sighed, looking back at the music book. I started flipping pages as Draco walked towards me.

"You are supposed to be in the library," he commented.

That was true. I had told him I was going to the library for a while, but I had decided to come here instead.

"The library was crowded," I used as an excuse.

"It was empty, actually."

Damn. He'd checked.

"Do you always follow me around to spy on me?" I asked him, sending him a rude glance.

"Do you always lie to me about your whereabouts?" his eyes narrowed.

"Do you always answer a question by asking one?" I matched his expression.

He squinted his eyes and pursed his lips in disappointment.

I began to play again, trying to ignore Draco. He was making me nervous, hovering nearby.

"Why do you play Muggle songs?" he asked.

"I know most of them, and that's what I used to play growing up at the orphanage," I supplied.

"You could learn some Wizarding music," he suggested.

I just shrugged. "What does it matter, anyway? Music is music."

"It matters," Draco said nondescriptly.

"What an illuminating and convincing argument," I rolled my eyes at him.

He stared at the piano as my fingers continued to plunk away, I stole a glance every once and a while to see what he was doing. When I'd finished another song, I turned to face him from where I saw on the piano bench.

"Can you leave?" I asked abruptly.

He looked taken aback.

"I mean, not to be rude, but this is sort of _me_ time," I said, knowing full well I was being very rude.

"'_Me_ time'?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "Me time. Bella time."

He looked at me blankly.

"You know," I said. "Time for Bella. To be alone. Without other people around. To bug her."

"I understand the concept, Ari," he said snidely. I cringed at his nickname for me.

"I don't think you do," I supplied.

He looked at me blankly again.

"You're still here," I pointed out.

"But I'm not 'other people'!" he argued.

I laughed. "Yes you are! Everyone is 'other people'!"

He looked mortally offended.

"Draco, I come here to be alone for a while, to get away from the busyness and lack of privacy."

"So you come here often?"

"You realize that sounds like a pick up line, right?" I gave him a meaningful look.

"You know what I mean," it was his turn to roll his eyes at me.

Once again I turned back to the piano, running my hands over the smooth white ivories without actually striking a string.

"How often is 'often'?" I asked, being difficult.

"Let me rephrase," Draco sighed, "How often do you come here?"

"Ohhhhh," I drawled, "_That_ I can answer!"

I refrained from looking at Draco's face, knowing there would be daggers in his eyes. I began to play Bach's First Invention again, knowing I could play and talk at the same time.

"I probably come here once a week, twice if I can sneak a break during my late night rounds on Sundays."

Draco looked at me funny.

"The one night a week most everybody is doing homework instead of out snogging," I explained.

He nodded his head, letting out a knowing chuckle.

"And the only night we ever split up during rounds," I finished.

His chuckle stopped, almost abruptly. "Yes, I suppose so."

* * * **_Later that year _** * *

After entering the Slytherin common room, I sent a furtive look around to make sure no one payed any attention to my entrance. I made my way to the hall at the back of the room, on the opposite side of the entrance. As I was about to descend the spiral stone staircase down to the girls dormitory, someone's tight grasp on my arm yanked me into a small alcove where a statue stood.

"Where the hell have you been?" Draco's gruff voice came in my ear.

I cringed. He'd noticed I was gone. His body was pressed up against mine as he attempted to flatten himself against the wall so no one could see us in the small recess in the stone. The large figure of Salazar Slytherin looked straight ahead at the wall behind Draco.

"Can you get off me?" I replied cheekily, knowing it would cost me.

"Don't mess with me, Ari. I couldn't find you all night. Where were you?"

"The piano room," I fabricated. How could he dispute that?

"I checked. There was no music coming from the seventh floor corridor," his voice seemed tight.

"After the first time you creeped in without me hearing you, I asked for the room to sound-proof itself," I supplied.

"I requested entrance and was denied."

"You probably weren't specific enough with your request."

"I couldn't get in no matter what I requested."

"Because I was already in there, Draco," I explained.

He slammed me back into the wall such that my head hit forcefully against the stone. I winced, but didn't make a sound.

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?" he demanded.

"So far tonight, yes, I've had an answer for each of your questions. Don't plan on a repeat, though, I don't know everything."

He placed his hand on the crook where my shoulder met my neck. His skin was cool and soft, no menace in his touch was present, but it still scared me.

"Where were you tonight? You weren't where you said you were," he said again.

I avoided his gaze.

"Don't lie to me, Arabella."

"What makes you think I'm lying?" I looked back at him, straight in his eyes.

That was the wrong question to ask. I suddenly had an urge to look away. But I knew it would make me look guilty, so I tried to stand my ground and make sure I didn't blink unnecessarily.

"You said you'd be in the library. You weren't. You should have been on your Head Girl rounds after curfew. You weren't. I couldn't get into the Room of Requirement. I couldn't hear music. I couldn't find you anywhere in the castle."

"Well, it's a big castle, so we could have _just_ missed each other," I pointed out.

His grip tightened around my neck.

"Didn't you have a meeting tonight, anyway?" I asked suspiciously.

"No, actually," came his smug reply, a sickly sweet smile spreading across his lips. "The Dark Lord did not require an audience with us tonight."

Oh, Merlin.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked. "I would have made myself available if I'd known you were going to be around."

"So you admit you made yourself unavailable?"

"Well, obviously, even if unintentionally, if you couldn't find me!" I kept my tone of voice casual, even if I felt like it was shaking like crazy.

A deep growl came from the back of his throat, and once again his grip tightened.

"Draco," I warned lightly. "Your grip is a little tight."

"Perhaps it will loosen when I know where you were."

"I told you. I was in the piano room," I said.

"No, no you weren't!"

"How do you know?"

"Because I saw Ginny Weasley leave a door that appeared where the door to the piano room appears five minutes after curfew."

_Merlin, Merlin, Merlin's bloody beard._

"Well, I hope you gave her detention," I reasoned, praying my facial expression hadn't changed.

"Twenty minutes later, you came out of that same door."

"Really?" I laughed. "Because I'm pretty sure I was three floors down telling off a fifth year Ravenclaw couple for snogging in a broom closet."

He slammed me back into the wall, I hit my head again against the hard stone of the alcove.

"Draco Malfoy!" I yelled at him, pushing him as hard as I could away from myself. "You do not treat a young lady this way. How dare you—"

"How dare I?" he laughed manically. "How dare you? How dare you lie to me, how dare you associate with blood traitors and enemies of your father?"

"You have no proof!" I said. "You are obviously exhausted and hallucinating.

"What will your father say," he asked, ignoring me, "when I tell him you've been seen with Ginerva Weasley and Neville Longbottom?"

"What will Father say when he hears you've man-handled me?"

"I think he'll understand when he hears you've been lying to me."

"Oh really? Do you think he'll understand when he sees the bruises on my arms?" I asked.

"What bruises?" There was a disturbing twinkle in his eyes. "You don't bruise easily, love."

With that he pressed me against the wall, pressed his lips against mine. I reeled back, but his hold on me was too tight and I was trapped. I lifted my right leg and stopped as hard as I could on his left foot. He pulled back and laughed at my sad attempt to cause him pain. He then turned and stepped from the alcove, his hand holding mine in a death vise. I kept a fiery glare on him as he helped me step away from the huge statue. He walked me down the stairs that led to the girls' dormitory, making sure I made it all the way into the 7th year dorm room.

"Pansy?" he called into the room when I opened the door.

Pansy looked up from her bed, where she was lying flipping through an issue of _Witch Weekly_.

"Don't let her out of here till I pick her up for breakfast," he instructed.

"Yes, Drakie," she answered in her sickly sweet voice.

As he closed the door, I could hear him chuckle in response to Pansy's next comment, "In trouble again, are we Arabella?"

* * * **_The next morning_** * * *

Draco picked me up for breakfast, not releasing my hand until we were seated side-by-side at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. I ripped my hand from his and reached to place a spoonful of scrambled eggs onto my plate, sprinkling it with a little salt and pepper from the salt shakers shaped like snakes. No one paid any great attention to the mail arriving after the first week or so of term, so when everyone gasped as the owls swooped down to deliver mail, I looked up and around, slightly confused at the commotion. Then I caught sight of the completely black owl swooping down, a bright red letter tied to his foot, and I knew. I looked from the familiar owl to Draco, who had a sly smirk on his face.

"You didn't," I said.

"Didn't what, my love?" he asked innocently.

I stared at him in disbelief, not looking as the bird landed in front of my plate. He refrained from returning my gaze, but looked at the sleek, graceful predator instead.

"You should open that before it explodes," he said, pointing to the steaming letter.

I pulled the Howler from the bird's leg, trying to decide whether to run for the furthest classroom or not, but I didn't make it. It fell open before me, filling the Great Hall with an appalling message.

_Consorting with Blood Traitors? Arabella Rose Riddle, who do you think you are? What the bloody hell do you think you are doing? You are lucky I don't come to Hogwarts right now and tell you what I really think of your behavior! You will report to Professor Snape every night for the rest of term for your punishment. Don't even think you will have a privilege of any kind when you come home for the Easter holidays. Do you know what happens to Blood Traitors? Do you know what happens to those who betray me? Do not double cross me again, Arabella, or you will deeply regret your birth. _

And just when I thought it was over, since there was a slight pause, he added:

_ What would your mother think?_

He always knew how to make me feel guilty. Whenever he wanted to make me feel especially bad, he would bring Mother into it, even though I knew nothing about her. I had no way of knowing what she would think of my behavior, but he was able to make me feel bad for disappointing her in spirit. I looked up to see hundreds of gaping faces staring at me. Draco's smug look was slightly diminished. I looked back at the ashes that indicated the letter had burnt up. I was just about to dissolve into tears, which would have been my response had I been with Harry, Hermione and Ron at the Gryffindor table, when I realized it had all be in Parseltongue. No one in that room had understood a word that had been said! I quickly rearranged my facial expression from one of complete horror and despair into one of happy-go-lucky normalcy.

"He wanted to congratulate me on my good Potions exam grade," I supplied to the audience of open-mouthed Hogwarts students. "You know, he's just _so_ proud!" And with that and a last bite of toast I removed myself from the Slytherin table and headed to my first class of the day.

_AN: Sorry it's short. Please Review! I have the Christmas chapter mostly written, I just need to add a bit and edit. So hopefully it will be up later today or tomorrow. Happy Christmas to everyone out there celebrating it. Happy Holidays to everyone else! Much love, CM_


	25. Chapter 25: Christmas

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter, the magic, characters, or events of the original canon. There is a reason JK Rowling is as rich, famous, and loved as she is. I did create Bella and the events that occur in her individual life.

_AN: Some events of this chapter occur in Deathy Hallows because I am taking the actual events of Deathy Hallows that lead to the final battle and spreading them out over two years (what would have been Bella's last year at Hogwarts, and this year—the year after Hogwarts) in order to develop the Draco-Bella relationship, and because it might seem a tad more realistic for it to take 3 teenagers wandering around Great Britain alone two years instead of one year to figure out how to defeat the Dark Lord..and then actually do it._

**XXV. Christmas**

Christmas Eve day dawned with sun, blue skies, and a few new centimeters of snow blanketing the Malfoy property in the most picturesque of ways. I lay in bed with my eyes wide open, staring out onto the gardens. It was going to be quite the holiday. Tonight was the Christmas Eve ball at the Notts', leaving today full of preparations for that and for tomorrow's celebrations. I wasn't quite ready to be up and out of bed, trying to avoid being in the way of the cleaning and last-minute decorating. Holidays always created stress as far as I could tell, and I always had a knack for getting in the way.

I pretended to sleep when Trinky popped in to leave a breakfast tray for me. She let me be, and I was thankful for the extra time to stay cocooned in my warm comforter. Finally the smell of peppermint tea and cinnamon rolls drew me from my bed and to the tray in front of a blazing fire. Draco knocked and entered just as I was wrapping myself in an afghan. Behind him, levitating several feet off the ground, was his own breakfast tray.

"May I join you?"

"Of course," I answered with a smile.

"Happy Christmas Eve day," he placed a kiss on the top of my head before circling around the couch and sitting next to me.

"Nice pajama pants," I teased, eyeing his black pants covered in candy canes.

"I thought I'd go festive," he returned, shrugging slightly.

"I didn't even know you owned a pair of regular old pajama pants," I responded. "I've only ever seen you in your robes, or _very_ occasionally in sweat pants."

"Yeah, well, this is what?—our fourth Christmas together? I thought I'd let you see the real me. Candy cane pajamas and all."

"Oh, the real you, huh?" I snickered, looking him up and down conspicuously.

"Oh shut it."

I stuffed a piece of frosting-coated cinnamon bun in my mouth and gave a toothless, cheeky, mouth-full-of-food smile.

After finishing chewing and swallowing, I turned to him seriously, "So what's on the agenda for today?"

"Avoid having to clean, avoid having to decorate, avoid having to wrap presents, spend the late afternoon getting ready for the ball tonight. That's about it," he answered, taking a sip of coffee from his mug.

"And how are we going to avoid all that?" I asked.

"Well, the house elves will take care of most of it. Other than that, we just hide away in some random rooms in the house hoping that Mother doesn't find us."

I laughed, "Is this how you spent your Christmases as a child? Running from your mother?"

"Running? No. Hiding? Oh, definitely."

I let out another giggle, shaking my head at him and picking my tea up from the tray.

"How come the last three Christmases we've spent helping clean and decorate and all that rot, then?"

"Well, that was expected of us, being guests for Christmas and all, home from school. My mother didn't get to see us save for Christmas, Easter and summer holidays. She would have been terribly upset had we not shown our faces to help finish preparing the house for the festivities," he explained. "But now, she sees us everyday. She won't miss us if we just happen to disappear most of the day."

"Draco! That's not fair. We really should help out."

"She has an army of house elves and a house full of Death Eaters to boss around," Draco argued.

I gave him a stern look.

"She won't even miss us!" came his reply.

Just then a knock came from the door and Narcissa poked her head in.

"Oh good, you two are up!" she said cheerily, her smile a little frayed. "Finish up breakfast soon so you can help finish decorating the entrance hall and sitting room!"

She closed the door quickly, and I listened to the click-clacking of her heels on the floor leading down the hall.

"Won't even miss us, huh?" I turned back to Draco.

Instead of answering he just took a gulp of coffee, burning his throat in the process. I laughed at the expression on his face and the tears that stung his eyes.

After finishing breakfast, Draco and I got ready for the day. I curled my hair, pinning half of it up with a large, stiff red bow. I put on a nice pair of black pants and a red sweater with a white turtleneck underneath that had small imprinted candy canes on it. Draco, dressed in his usual dress pants and black loafers had on a white collared shirt and a green cable-knit sweater.

"We look like a disgustingly cute Christmas couple," I commented when I saw him. "Like we coordinated."

"But we didn't coordinate," he pointed out hopefully.

"I still sort of want to barf," I deadpanned.

He tried to hide a chuckle, "No time to barf, love. Mother is expecting us."

We walked toward the main stairwell, I turned to him before we descended the stairs, "We're getting along quite well, considering it's a holiday and we tend to fight anyway."

"Don't jinx it," he responded.

"Sorry," I knocked on the wood banister in response, sending him a sympathetic smile.

We spent that afternoon being directed around by Narcissa, lining the banister with garlands and big red bows, stringing fairy lights above the windows in the downstairs parlors, adding the last boxes of ornaments to the three Christmas trees in the entryway and the large one in the sitting room where Father sometimes held his meetings. I was very grateful to have my wand back, using it often to place ornaments and decorations on branches I was much too short to reach on my own. The house elves had done most of the work cleaning and decorating, but Narcissa always liked to put a little extra work in and have us participate in the holiday. We took a hot chocolate break around three in the afternoon before Narcissa ushered me upstairs to the shower. No stylists greeted me outside when I stepped out in my bathrobe, just Narcissa.

"I thought we could spend some mother-daughter time together," she said cheerily, her smile a little less frayed than before. "I mean, future mother-in-law-future-daughter-in-law time..."

I laughed, "Mother-daughter time sounds great."

We sat on the bathroom floor painting our nails and chatting about everything from Christmas traditions to Hogwarts school crushes to plans for the future. I learned that Narcissa's first kiss occurred when she was fifteen by a young boy who lived down the block from her. She and Lucius had fallen for each other at Hogwarts but hadn't begun to date until late in their years there. She had always wanted a daughter too, but Lucius was perfectly content with just Draco as a son. Her favorite Christmas tradition was listening to Christmas music and drinking hot cocoa as everyone picked one gift to open on Christmas Eve before heading to bed. Her least favorite: reading Christmas stories till midnight; that one had been banished the moment she became a Malfoy. She asked me about Christmas at the orphanage as she brushed out my long hair and used her wand to fold it into a simple, but elegant updo. I told her about what I had wanted to be when I grew up before I'd found out I was a witch as I watched her apply her make up with the efficient hand of someone who'd been doing it for years. By the time we were all ready to get into our dresses, I was so content with the time we'd spent learning about each other, I'd have liked nothing better than to hop back in the shower and get ready for bed. She embraced me, kissing each of my cheeks before leaving my room to let me get dressed.

I pulled my dress from the garment bag. The top was a midnight blue, form fitting, three-quarter length sleeve that attached to a dark blue skirt with a silvery flowery, lace-like pattern that went down just past my knee. The top and bottom were pulled together with a thick satin sash that wrapped around the waist line. After putting on the dress I pulled on some matching heels with jeweled flowers on the clasp. Matching earrings and a short choker necklace finished off the look. Just in time, Draco came to fetch me and we headed out to the ball.

All in all, it was wonderful way to spend the evening. The Notts had decorated their house to the nines, much like the Malfoys had. There was plenty of food and music like every ball, but most unlike any other ball I'd been to that year, there was also a plethora of happy chatter and light laughter. Draco and I didn't argue all night, we shared several dances with other people and had a lovely evening.

We returned home late on Christmas Eve, but before midnight for once. Draco and I ascended the stairs silently, hand-in-hand. I stopped to enter my room, but Draco held my hand fast, stopping me before I was able to enter.

"Wait. I want to give you your Christmas gift."

"But it's not Christmas morning yet!" I replied.

"We always get to choose one gift to open on Christmas Eve," he responded.

"Yes, I remember," I answered. "But doesn't that mean I get to choose which one?"

"I want you to open one in particular tonight," he said slyly.

"What if I don't want to open that particular one tonight?" I asked teasingly.

"Oh, humor me, Bells," he leaned in to brush a kiss across my cheek.

I sighed, "Alright."

He led me on to the Blue Room. We stopped right in front of the door and Draco took both my hands in his.

"So I turned this into a bit of a pet project," he admitted to me.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Just wait and see, and then I'll explain" he dropped one of my hands and opened the door.

I stepped inside and he illuminated the lamps with the wave of his wand. As the lights bounced off the objects in the room, allowing my eyes to see, I gasped. The room definitely could no longer be called the Blue Room. The curtains had been changed to a dark purple color with a beautiful flower embroidery. The blue rug had been replaced with a beautifully crafted Persian rug. And on top of the rug was a brand new baby grand piano, just like I'd always wanted.

"Oh, Draco!" I said, my hands still covering my mouth.

"I got permission from my mother to change the room a bit, add the piano, get the rug. The room is yours now. You can change whatever you want, come play piano whenever you want, fill it with music or books or...knitting projects," he explained.

"Knitting projects?" I laughed, tears stinging my eyes.

"I don't know!" he exclaimed. "I just know you like to play," he gestured toward the massive instrument, "And it makes you happy. And I want you to be happy."

"Thank you!" I flung my arms around his neck, burying my face into his shoulder. "Thank you so much Draco. This is the best gift you could have ever given me!"

I released him and immediately sat down at the piano, adjusting the bench to fit my shorter stature.

"What would you like me to play?" I asked him.

"Something Christmasy," came his reply.

"Well, obviously," I rolled my eyes at him.

"Anything you like," he shoved his hands in his pockets and strode towards me.

I looked beside the piano to see a small black box filled with piano books. I sent Draco a suspicious look.

"I did some research," he shrugged with a smirk on his lips.

I looked down and pulled out a traditional Christmas book. Flipping to one of my favorite Christmas carols, I began to play. After a while, Draco sat next to me on the bench, and after I began to sing he joined in. We continued on for an hour or so, enjoying the music, the warmth of the season, but most of all, each other.

We exited the former Blue Room a while after midnight, now Christmas Day. Draco began walking me back to my room when we heard the sound of the front door being slammed and footsteps crossing the entrance hall. Draco's right hand immediately jumped to his left arm. He gave me a significant look, one that was meant to be interpreted as "go to your room and stay there." Of course, I followed him to the stairwell instead. His long strides took him there quickly and I was forced to jog lightly and gracelessly in my heels. He descended the stairs quickly and I stood with my hands on the railing of the banister on the balcony over the entrance hall. My father looked up to see me standing there, a worried look surely plastered on my face.

"Arabella, please go to your room," he said coldly. He was obviously furious.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing of your concern," he turned to head to the meeting.

I opened my mouth to argue; if he wanted to give me the Dark Mark, if he wanted me to take on responsibility, he should start trusting me with information and I should take part in these meetings. I changed my mind, however, a heavy weight settling deep in my stomach as I got the distinct feeling that I did _not_ want to know what had happened. I turned on my heel and went straight to my room.

I was up and at 'em before Draco the next morning. I hadn't slept well the night before, I had not heard Draco pass by my room last night to go to bed, and I had a weird feeling about the occurrences that had taken place on Christmas Eve. I wrapped myself in my dressing robe and scurried down the stairs. Presents had appeared under and around the tree in the sitting room overnight. Even though Narcissa knew that we no longer believed in Santa Clause, she liked to have the presents appear "magically" while we were sleeping. As I approached the breakfast room, I heard voices. I entered the breakfast room, where Narcissa and Lucius were sipping coffee and reading _The Daily Prophet_, they looked up to see me enter, each wishing me a Merry Christmas. I sat with a cup of tea on the window seat waiting for Draco to appear and doing one of the puzzles Narcissa cut out of the paper for me. I really wanted to ask about last night, but I was sure I would be persona non grata if I did so.

"Where's Father?" I finally asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"The Dark Lord is attending to some business today," came Lucius' cryptic reply.

"On Christmas?" I asked.

"Yes," Lucius said coldly.

"Business not revolving around the celebration of the birth of a savior and spending time with his one and only daughter?" I said sarcastically, but with a hint of honesty in my melancholy at family not being his first priority on this holiday.

Narcissa gave me a soft, sad smile. She knew something, obviously, and she knew that something would upset me as well.

"There are more important things on his mind right now," Lucius glared at me.

I shrugged it off, knowing full well that Lucius Malfoy didn't have a humorous bone in his body. Sarcasm was lost on him unless it revolved around pain and suffering. Luckily Draco walked in at that moment, again in his candy cane pajamas, much to my delight and his father's chagrin. We sat down to a lovely, although overly filling, breakfast before opening the gifts under the tree.

Lucius and Narcissa gave each other several extravagant gifts as well as purchasing things for Draco and myself. Father had left a gift for me, which turned out to be a locking jewelry box with a mirror and all sorts of neat compartments. I was pretty sure, however, that Narcissa had picked it out for him to give me so Father didn't have to do any of the work. After all the presents had been opened, Lucius retired to his study with one of his new books, Narcissa went to check on the status of lunch in the kitchens as some of the house elves began to clean up the wrapping paper strewn about the floor. I turned to Draco with a small, square box in my hands.

"Merry Christmas," I said to him handing him the box.

He took the package with a smile and a thank you. As he began slowly unwrapping the gift, my stomach did flips. I wasn't sure if he was going to like it. And the more I thought about it the more sure I became that he was not going to like it, and I regretted my decision instantly. I should have just gotten him a Quidditch book or something. He lifted the lid off a little box to reveal two gold watches, one larger than the other. He lifted the larger one from the tissue paper, looking at it carefully. Inside the glass were three hands backed in onyx stone. One golden hand told you the hour, the other the minutes, and the last had the initials AR written in golden calligraphy on it. Around the face of the clock were written various places: "home" where 12 should be, "traveling" at 1, "Hogwarts" at 3, "danger" at 9, and several others. The other, smaller watch was identical, save for the initials which were DM instead of AR.

"I got the idea from a clock I saw in a Wizarding family's home," I admitted, referring to Mrs. Weasley's clock, which told her the location of everyone in her family. "Your watch will tell you where I am, mine where you are. Try opening the back of it," I suggested.

He turned his watch over, opening the back of the watch to reveal a small hallow opening.

"If you place a message in there, it will appear in the back of mine, and vice versa," I explained.

"Like a vanishing cabinet," he murmured.

"Well, yes," I said, looking down at my fingernails, "that's where I got the idea."

"So I can send you messages instantly, without an owl..."

"If it works, yes," I answered, feeling very nervous.

"And vice versa," he said.

I nodded, not really knowing if he hated the gift or loved it.

"Bells, this is brilliant!" he exclaimed. "Thank you so much!"

He pulled me into a deep hug, pressing a few small kisses on my neck. When he let me go, he put his watch on right away, handing me mine and looking at me expectantly.

"Well," he nodded at my wrist, "put it on!"

I laughed and obliged. After I finished fastening it to my wrist, I looked up. Draco captured my lips before I could protest. And to my amazement, I found my heart didn't want to protest, and I let myself become lost in the moment. Lost in feeling of love that Draco was able to convey in his kisses and the soothing touch of his hand brushing the hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear.

"Happy Christmas, love," he finally breathed when he pulled away.

"Happy Christmas, Draco."

We spent the afternoon putting our prizes away and reading in front of the fire with hot chocolate (for Draco), tea (for me), and frosted, decorated gingerbread men. The best part about magical gingerbread men is their vain attempts to convince you not to eat them. Draco would lose his patience right away and bite off the head so he couldn't hear them argue, but I would always eat the head just before finishing off the cookie. I enjoyed consuming each of the four limbs first and conversing with the poor cookies, who believed the lists of reasons not to eat them would distract me from their deliciousness. It was entertaining to be sure, but completely futile.

"Why do you torment them?" Draco asked after I chatted with a cookie in between biting off his arms and legs.

"I like to hear what they have to say!" I answered.

"They're cookies!" he exclaimed, an unmistakable smile spreading across his face.

"Oh I know, but we didn't have talking gingerbread men growing up, so I have so much catching up to do!"

He just laughed at my response.

After I chased the last cookie with some cold milk, I turned in my seat, setting my book down on the seat cushion next to me.

"Draco?" I asked.

He looked up from his book, reluctantly.

"What happened last night?" I asked timidly.

He sighed, his happy expression fading fast.

"You don't want to know," was his only reply.

"Yes I do," I argued.

"I really shouldn't tell you," he pinched the bridge of his nose in slight frustration.

"You could write it down..." I suggested sneakily, eyeing his watch.

He gave me a kind smile, like he was indulging a small child.

"Let's just say, your saintly friend has a surprising ability to escape sticky situations, with the help of one very intelligent young buck-toothed, frizzy-haired know-it-all."

"Don't call her that!" I scolded, but Draco just ignored me. "Where were they?"

He didn't answer me for a moment.

"Godric's Hollow," Draco whispered in my ear.

I had to cover my mouth to refrain from exclaiming loudly. It was a brilliant place to go to look for clues, but also completely predictable from my father's perspective.

"So, he was foiled again," I murmured, referring to my father.

Draco just nodded.

"What about Ron?" I asked.

"What about him?" Draco sounded confused.

"Never mind," I shook my head, wondering why Ron hadn't been with the other two, and hoping nothing had gone wrong.

"Is..is everyone okay?" I asked after another moment.

"If you are asking if Potter and Granger are alive, I would assume so based on the Dark Lord's mood last night."

I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Draco placed his hand on my back and began rubbing it in small circles, returning to his book with his other free hand. After a moment, I leaned into him, and he wrapped his arm around me, running his fingers up and down my arm.

"Hey, Draco?" I said, my head resting on his shoulder.

"Mm hm?" he hummed.

"This has been our best Christmas yet," I stated.

"I agree."

"Thank you," I whispered.

He didn't respond. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breathes, trying to release the tension that had built in my body from the conversation about Harry and Hermione.

"I love you, Arabella," Draco responded after a moment longer.

I lifted my head slightly and planted a quick kiss on his cheek in response. I then returned my head to its previous position and stared into the fire, trying to decide exactly how I felt about Draco.

It was in that position that I fell asleep until Narcissa came to remind us to get changed into something acceptable for Christmas Day dinner.

_AN: I'm sorry I couldn't throw a "humerus" bone (the upper arm bone) joke in there with the Lucius' lack of humor bit. I tried to think of one, but it was just way too geeky and out of place..._

_ANYWAY...here is your Christmas Chapter...yay! Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! _

_Also..._

_WHEN (not if) you REVIEW...please please please tell me if you would rather (a) read chapters that are ahead in the real-life calendar (so the next chapter may occur in February or April, even though we are still in December/January in real life) or (b) wait for me to update until we are in the same time of year as that chapter occurs._

_THANK YOU! _

_And as Taylor Swift says, lovelovelove!_


	26. Chapter 26: Harry Potter

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter, the magic, characters, or events of the original canon. There is a reason JK Rowling is as rich, famous, and loved as she is. I did create Bella and the events that occur in her individual life. IMPORTANT: Some direct quotes for this chapter were taken from JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows pages 463-474.

_AN: So thank you thank you thank you for all of the reviews! Best Christmas present ever! I had 888 hits the day after Christmas—a new record! _

_Also, most voted for (A) keep updating even if it's not with the real calendar. I will attempt to keep updating as soon as I can! Here's your next installment._

**XXVI. Harry Potter**

A few days after Christmas, more trouble arrived. Father's mood seemed to worsen when Travers and Selwyn were called on a mission that had apparently failed.

"You were in the same house as Harry Potter and he got away?" my father's severe voice could be heard across the entrance hall, where I sat reading in the breakfast room. I shut the book I was reading and stood, just as Draco came in.

"You don't want to hear this," he commented.

I nodded sadly, before heading to the stairwell. As I ascended the stairs I could hear Selwyn begging for mercy.

"The Mudblood blasted a hole in the floor, how could we stop them? My Lord, Lovegood has been pestering us with trivial things trying to get his daughter back, how were we to know this time was a matter of real importance?"

Lovegood. Luna? Where was Luna if not with her father over the holidays? I felt ashamed to know that I was aware of so little during this war, my father successfully keeping all newspapers and radio shows from my eyes and ears.

"Luna?" I turned back to Draco as I reached the stairs.

"Keep walking, love," was his only reply as he turned back to the ballroom. I sent up a silent prayer for Luna and the rest of my Hogwarts friends, praying they were all safe and well. I'd nearly made it to the former Blue Room—now called the Music Room—when I heard the Dark Lord respond:

"You treat _every_ matter as a matter of real importance when it comes to Harry Potter!" his voice rose in strength and pitch with every word.

I hurried to the piano and began playing Bach's Invention No. 1 as loudly as I could, requiring I take it at a speed much slower than usual, just to make sure I didn't hear the screams. The only good thing was, I knew Harry and Hermione were safe, and Hermione's cleverness was keeping them alive.

New Years Eve brought so much snow, I was forced to wear boots and carry my dancing shoes as we made our way to the Zabinis' for another ball. I'd woken that morning, slightly bitter I couldn't just stay at home for the day.

"Another holiday. Another ball," I sighed as I pulled off the covers of my bed.

"You bet," came Draco's response as I looked to find him standing, breakfast tray in hand laden with tea, coffee and food. "But, what better way to start the last day of the year than with banana chocolate chip pancakes? And banana chocolate chip pancakes shared with me, no less."

"Your humility is astounding," I rolled my eyes and grabbed my purple mug from the tray. Before I made it around the couch to sit down, he planted a kiss on my cheek. I could feel my cheeks turn pink and hot as the blood rushed to them. I ducked my head so my hair would fall in my face, hiding my reaction. What was with the blushing? I never blushed! And most especially not due to Draco Malfoy. My best friend's enemy. No one to be the least bit interested in. I'd been trying to erase the memory of me pecking him on the cheek on Christmas. It was just the holiday spirit, and sleepiness, and the fact that he was the only person around, and maybe the gingerbread men, too. I mean, it's always flattering to be loved, right? But that didn't mean I liked him back.

I cleared my throat as I sat down, brushing off the encounter.

"Something bothering you?" Draco asked, handing me a plate of pancakes.

"No, no," I assured him as best I could, "just trying to wake myself up."

Midway through January, Narcissa decided it was time to start preparing for my birthday party. This meant another visit from Madame Prideaux for a dress design and fitting as well as decisions on decorations and music. The Malfoys liked to do things big, I'd discovered, and since it was my first birthday to be celebrated at the Manor, instead of at school or the orphanage, Narcissa wanted to pull out all the stops. As Narcissa and I were seated in her parlor, sipping tea and picking colors for the table clothes (one of my many "least favorite things to do" when it came to party planning) there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Narcissa said airily. Without skipping a beat she returned to the swatches of cloth. "I like this shade of purple better for the runners, Arabella. What do you think? I know you like number 17, but this might work better with the lighting in the room."

I didn't answer her, astonished to see my father in the parlor. After a moment, Narcissa caught on and looked up. She stood hurriedly and bowed, to which my father waved her away.

"I have special business to attend to, Arabella," he addressed me. "I am not sure when I will be back, and I was informed by Mr. Malfoy that last time I disappeared without warning you, you were a little hurt."

I refrained from snorting in amusement. "Hurt" wasn't quite what I'd felt, but if he and Lucius wanted to be deluded enough to think I was that close to my father, I wasn't one to argue. The more they trusted me, the better.

"Thank you for letting me know, Father," I replied politely.

"I expect you to be on your best behavior. Do as you are told, please."

"Of course," I said, as if his implication that I would do otherwise were preposterous. Because I _always _did as I was told.

He stepped forward, planting a kiss on the top of my head before sweeping from the room.

"Do you know where he's going?" I asked Narcissa after he had left.

"No idea," she said, taking a rather large swig of tea and avoiding my gaze. "So about the runner..."

Later that evening, I sat with Draco in the library upstairs. I was flipping through _Hogwarts, A History_ for the millionth time. Draco was reading some book on potions that Snape had recommended to me, and I had passed on to him. I kept flipping back and forth between the pictures of the four founders. Gryffindor with his sword, Hufflepuff with her cup, Slytherin with his locket, and Ravenclaw. What was it about Ravenclaw? She sometimes had an eagle her shoulder and a staff in her hand, or occasionally she was just holding some flowers. She didn't wear any jewelry, she didn't carry any other trinkets. But what of hers could be turned into a Horcrux? I flipped through the pages on Ravenclaw. And then I saw it. In every picture, she was wearing a tiara, one that stated: _wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure._ Without a doubt it was in every picture, even if it wasn't on her head, and if it had existed in reality, my father would have turned it into a Horcrux.

Just as I was about to smile in triumph at the discovery, I heard the sound indicating someone at the door. Draco and I looked at each other, his expression just as puzzled as mine.

"I'll go see what's up," he said, putting his book down on the coffee table. "Stay here, it might be just one of Mother's friends. You don't want to get trapped in _that_ kind of conversation."

I smiled, "Just call me if you need saving."

Draco did not reappear for quite some time, and I began to worry. I put down my book, pacing the floor of the room. I thought about going downstairs to see what was wrong, but I decided against risking the possibility of being locked in a conversation about shoes and handbags. I began to realize with slight dread that it wasn't one of Narcissa's friends when I heard Bellatrix's screeching echoing up from below. I feared there was something amiss, and didn't really want to see an angry Bellatrix if I could avoid it. I heard a click in my watch, and I quickly wrenched it off to see if there was a message in the back. Sure enough, in Draco's handwriting—the hurried scrawl he used only with urgency—was written: _Stay where you are_.

"Gladly," I whispered to myself, sinking back into the couch cushions and picking up my book again.

I began reading, or rather, pretending to read. I was wound too tightly knowing Father was out of the house and something downstairs had Bellatrix angry. I wished Draco would come up and keep me company. But just as I was wishing this I heard screams from downstairs. Familiar screams, which brought to mind a humungous mountain troll roaming around a Hogwarts bathroom.

"Hermione!"

Without a second thought, I crossed the room and flung the door open, running for the stairs. I leapt down them two at a time, nearly tripping on my robes in the process. I headed straight for the sitting room, grabbing hold of the doorframe with one hand to counter the inertia of my body moving forward. I swung to a stop to find Bellatrix Lestrange standing over Hermione's battered body, screaming curses.

"Hermione!" I yelled, rushing towards the young woman who was my best friend, but now appeared haggard, underfed and utterly exhausted. Everyone looked up as I catapulted into the room, Draco intercepted me before I could get halfway into the room.

"Bella! You're okay!" she said, her voice hoarse from screaming.

"Arabella," Draco's low growl came. "I told you to stay put."

"Yes, but I wish I could say the same for you," I called over Draco's shoulder to Hermione, ignoring what the young man had said to me.

"I'm taking you back upstairs," Draco said to me.

"I'm not leaving knowing my best friend is down here getting tortured. How do you expect me to stand by and let this happen?"

"You don't have a choice."

I turned in his arms to try to free myself and get to Hermione, but he held me fast.

"I'm going to ask you again!" Bellatrix continued as if I'd not entered. "Where did you get this sword? _Where?_" I looked at the object Bellatrix had indicated. It was Gryffindor's sword. I'd not seen it since the last time I'd been in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

"We found it—we found it—PLEASE!" Hermione screamed again.

"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, _tell the truth!"_

She let loose another curse, and Hermione screamed in pain.

"Stop it! Bellatrix, stop it!" I screamed. "She wouldn't lie. She's terrible at it!"

The curse was released, but Bellatrix rounded on me. "Don't you dare defend that Mudblood. I know what you are. You may have your father and my nephew fooled, but you are just a filthy little blood traitor!"

"Bella!" Narcissa gasped at her sister. "Control yourself."

"Stay out of this Cissy! She even has you wrapped around her little finger," she replied spitefully. "She's not loyal to the Dark Lord. She doesn't deserve the treatment she's given by the best wizard of the age."

"Bellatrix, I expect better from you," Lucius stated from beside his sister-in-law. "She is a guest in this household, and I expect you to treat her with respect."

Belltatrix's eyes flashed dangerously at me. Draco's hold on me tightened, but I could tell he was tensing because he wasn't quite sure what Bellatrix would do next, not because he wanted to keep me where I was. Bellatrix turned her attention back to poor Hermione. I felt ashamed to be so well groomed and dressed in comparison with my best friend, who had been suffering for so long looking for the Horcruxes with Harry. I felt so guilty, I noticeably drooped in Draco's arms.

"What else did you take?" Bellatrix asked Hermione. "What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

"Nothing! Nothing!" Hermione said, nearly begging.

Bellatrix waved her wand, and yet again Hermione was writhing in pain. I turned my head slightly so I didn't have to see.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! _CRUCIO!_"

"Draco, make her stop," I begged underneath my breath.

"How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix screamed. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"

"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed. "We've never been inside your vault...It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

I looked up suddenly, to Hermione and the sword and then back at Hermione.

"A copy?" screeched Bellatrix. "Oh, a likely story!"

"But we can find out easily!" Lucius spoke again. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"

"Let me take Arabella upstairs first, Father," Draco requested.

"Just do as you are told, Draco," Bellatrix snapped. "If she can't stomach witnessing a little torture, she's no daughter of the Dark Lord."

Draco sighed deeply before leaning in to whisper in my ear.

"Don't move," and he released his hold on me, "_Please,_" and moved toward the door. I made to move to Hermione, who lay on the floor sobbing. Before I could make two steps, I felt Fenrir's grasp on my upper arm.

"I'll take over for the lad," he growled deeply. A shiver ran up my spine as I heard him inhale deeply. I saw Narcissa's eyes flash to Lucius, who pointedly ignored her. I tried to wrest my arm from his grasp, but he only grabbed both my arms instead, pulling me against his hulking chest. Bellatrix fired another round of curses at Hermione, and her screams echoed once more.

When Draco reentered with the goblin, Narcissa looked up from Hermione.

"Ah, good. Now we'll discover the truth," she sneered. Suddenly, and completely out of place, a loud pop sounded.

"What was that?" shouted Lucius. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?"

We all looked up and around, no one knowing what it had been.

"Draco—no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!"

Draco exited once more, calling for Wormtail and giving him instructions. When he returned, he came to stand beside Greyback. Draco seemed so small compared to the hulking figure of the werewolf.

"Greyback, release her," Draco said coldly.

"I think I can keep her in line just fine, boy," Greyback responded, running a sickly rough hand up my arm and neck.

Draco pulled his wand. "Let. Her. Go."

I looked around the room to see every witch and wizard, wand in hand, looking expectantly at Greyback. He must have noticed it too, because he dropped my arm. But not before muttering, "It wouldn't hurt...just one bite...not for me at least."

Draco removed me from that side of the room, holding my hand tightly, his fingers intertwined with mine.

"Well?" Bellatrix turned to Griphook. "Is it the true sword?"

"No," responded Griphook. "It is a fake."

"Are you sure?" panted Bellatrix. "Quite sure?"

"Yes," said the goblin.

"Good," she said, relief spreading across her features. With a casual flick of her wand, she slashed a deep cut across the goblin's already scarred and bleeding face, and he dropped with a yell at her feet. She kicked him aside. "And now," she said in a voice that burst with triumph, "we call the Dark Lord!"

With that, she pushed back her sleeve and touched her forefinger to the Dark Mark.

"And I think," said Bellatrix, "we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."

A few things happened at once. I moved forward, my mouth open about to protest; Draco's hold on my hand kept me from going too far. At the same time, a familiar redhead burst into the drawing room, screaming at the top of his lungs: "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Draco pulled me back even more forcefully so he had his hands on both of my arms.

"Ron?" I gaped.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he roared, pointing a wand that wasn't his at Bellatrix, and hers flew into the air and was caught by Harry, who had sprinted in after Ron. Lucius, Narcissa, and Greyback wheeled about, Draco moved to stand in front of me protectively.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry yelled, and Lucius Malfoy collapsed onto the hearth. Jets of light flew from Draco's, Narcissa's and Greyback's wands; Harry threw himself to the floor, rolling behind a sofa to avoid them.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!"

Bellatrix was supporting Hermione, who appeared unconscious, and was holding her short silver knife to Hermione's throat.

"Drop your wands," she whispered. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!"

Both boys stood and straightened, each holding stolen wands limply in their hands. Harry caught my eyes, and I sent him a worried and apologetic look. He took a long moment to blink as if to tell me it wasn't my fault.

"I said drop them!" she screeched, pressing the blade into Hermione's throat. I could see beads of blood begin to blossom under the knife.

I let out a little whimper, wanting to speak up, but not wanting to draw Bellatrix's anger onto myself.

"All right!" Harry shouted, and he dropped Bellatrix's wand onto the floor at his feet. Ron did the same. Both raised their hands to shoulder height as if to surrender.

"Good!" she leered. "Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!"

Draco released my hand. And as he approached Harry and Ron, I took a few steps closer to the them, hyper aware of the location of my wand in my inside robe pocket. I could tell Harry was in pain. His connection with my father was strong, probably because my father was feeling a strong emotion at being called back from business; whether it was excitement or anger, no one would know until he arrived. His scar was most likely bursting with pain, beads of sweat were clinging to his skin and he looked a sickly shade of pale yellow. His long hair and unshaven face made him look even more ashen than usual.

"Now," said Bellatrix softly, as Draco handed her the wands he had gone to pick up. He returned to stand between me and the boys. "Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight."

At the last word there was a peculiar grinding noise from above. All of us looked upward in time to see the crystal chandelier tremble; then, with a creak and an ominous jingling, it began to fall. Bellatrix was directly beneath it; dropping Hermione, she threw herself aside with a scream. The chandelier crashed to the floor in an explosion of crystal and chains, falling on top of Hermione and the goblin, who still clutched the sword of Gryffindor. Glittering shards of crystal flew in all directions. Draco had pulled me to the ground, covering me with his body and covering our faces with his arms.

As soon as the dust settled, he leapt off of me, pulling me to my feet as well. I looked up to see Ron pulling Hermione from the wreckage and Harry jumping over the couch to wrest the wands from Bellatrix's grasp. He pointed them all at Greyback and yelled, "_Stupefy!_" The werewolf was lifted off his feet by the triple spell, flew up to the ceiling, and then smashed to the ground.

Draco went to his mother, pulling her gently to her feet and ensuring she was okay. I began to move slowly toward Harry, trying not to draw attention to myself. Unfortunately Lucius had stirred and stood, and after catching sight of my movement sent me flying back into the wall behind me, a little more forcefully than necessary. Bellatrix sprang to her feet, her hair flying as she brandished the silver knife but Narcissa had directed her wand at the doorway.

"Dobby!" she screamed, and even Bellatrix froze. "You! _You_ dropped the chandelier – ?"

The tiny elf trotted into the room, his shaking finger pointing at his old mistress. Draco, eyeing the elf carefully came to pick me up and put me right.

"You okay?" he asked, steading me as I stood.

"That was a little uncalled for."

"Father's not going to let you get close enough to help them, or get kidnapped by them," he answered.

I refrained from answering by turning my attention back to the house elf.

"You must not hurt Harry Potter," he squeaked.

"Kill him, Cissy!" shrieked Bellatrix, but there was another loud _crack, _and Narcissa's wand too flew into the air and landed on the other side of the room.

"You dirty little monkey!" bawled Bellatrix. "How dare you take a witch's wand, how dare you defy your masters?"

"Dobby has no master!" squealed the elf. "Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!"

I could tell Harry was in pain from his scar, I wondered for a moment if the pain would blind him to the extent they couldn't get out of this mess. I eyed him carefully, and Draco noticed. Tightening his grip on my waist he said slowly, "What are you thinking, Bella?"

Out of no where, Harry straightened and yelled, "Ron, catch—and GO!" He threw one of the wands at him; then he bent down to tug Griphook out from under the chandelier. Hoisting the groaning goblin, who still clung to the sword, over one shoulder, Harry seized Dobby's hand and spun on the spot to Disapparate. Right before he disappeared, he shot me a look of pure despair and empathy. I knew he had to leave without me, but it didn't stop my heart from breaking at the knowledge that I was stuck in Malfoy Manor, the Dark Lord returning from business to find a house full of full-grown wizards and witches who weren't able to keep Harry Potter from escaping_ again_.

It didn't take much longer for Father to arrive. We were more or less all frozen on the spot, staring at blank space. Bellatrix, Draco and I were all staring at the spot where Harry, the goblin, the sword of Gryffindor and Dobby had all disappeared. It wasn't until my father walked in, that we all shook the cobweb gloom and disbelief from our heads and came back to reality. He took one look around at the wreckage of the chandelier before his eyes immediately darkened.

"Why did you call me here, Bellatrix?" the Dark Lord's voice shook with anger, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. "You knew I was away on very important business. What's happened here?"

As Bellatrix hit her knees, hanging on to the robes of my father in a pitiful attempt to ask for forgiveness and mercy, Fenrir Greyback began to stir and Narcissa handed Lucius his wand. Most everyone was covered in small cuts from the shattering of the chandelier. It hadn't occurred to me until I thought about it that I might be cut too. Draco had done a good job covering most of me, but I caught a glance of my reflection in the mirror over the fireplace and saw that I had a gash right above my right eyebrow and a few small cuts on my neck. I also had a few cuts up and down my arms where he had been unable to protect me. I lifted my hand to the gash above my eyebrow. I winced as I touched it and when I brought my hand down, my fingers were stained with wet blood. I looked to Draco, whose back of the neck and hands, the only parts of him that had remained uncovered in the crash, were littered with bleeding cuts.

"My Lord, forgive me, we had them, but that _filthy_ house elf helped them!"

"Helped who, Bellatrix?" my father asked.

She just sobbed.

"Helped who?" his voice was almost calm. "WHO was here, Bellatrix?"

"Harry Potter," she sobbed, clinging to his robes.

"Harry Potter was here?" he asked very slowly. "And he's now gone?"

Bellatrix could only nod. My father kicked her away, silently waving his wand and hitting her with the Cruciatus Curse. She writhed on the ground in pain, not screaming or making a sound.

"And to what _elf_ is she referring?" she turned to Lucius and Narcissa as Bellatrix lay panting on the ground.

"Our former house elf, Dobby," answered Lucius.

"_Former_ house elf?"

"Yes, the one Harry Potter helped set free in his second year," he elaborated.

I almost let a smile form on my lips at the memory of it.

"_Harry Potter_ set free? _Harry Potter!_" my father sent another round of curses at the Malfoys.

I cringed, but dared not look away or move, for fear of drawing the Dark Lord's attention to me.

"What is it about this seventeen year old wizard who hasn't even finished school that makes you people incapable of finding him and keeping him until I can finish him off?" my father bellowed. He sent Lucius flying into the back wall and tortured Bellatrix once more.

"Who do I blame?" he asked maliciously.

No one dared answer. I caught Narcissa daring to glance at her son with worry. Everyone was silent for a moment.

"Hm? Who to blame?" the Dark Lord began pacing the floor, crystal crunched beneath his feet. Greyback stirred slightly and was met with a harsh curse from my father.

I stepped forward, out of Draco's grasp. "Me, Father."

My father turned around very quickly to look at me fiercely.

"Arabella!" I heard Draco hiss under his breath, then addressing my father, "No, My Lord—"

Before he could speak any more, I put out my hand out to stop him and he fell silent.

The Dark Lord looked from Draco back to me, "Arabella?"

"Blame me," I repeated.

"And why should you bear the blame, little one?" he asked, his voice returning to a normal volume level. "I don't believe I left you with express instructions on how to deal with Harry Potter should he be found."

He began to pace the room again, looking at each of his followers as he passed them, his eyes burning with rage.

"I don't believe I told you not to disturb my business unless it was of the utmost importance," he kicked Bellatrix very hard in the ribs as he passed, "and I don't believe an escaped enemy and a broken chandelier fall under that particular category."

"That may be so, but you did give me some instructions, Father."

"Oh?" he turned to face me directly.

"You told me to do as I was told, Father."

"Yes, my child."

I looked down at my shoes, afraid to look at my father. I knew by taking the blame I was going to be in so much trouble I might never see the light of day again. I took a deep breath, summoning all of the Gryffindor courage I could before looking my father in the eye again. By the time I looked up, he was standing directly in front of me.

"When my...after the..." I took a deep breath and began again. "We heard the door, and Draco went to see who had arrived, telling me to stay upstairs," I said. "And well, obviously I didn't. Stay upstairs, that is."

"Obviously not."

"I came down when I heard Hermione screaming," I admitted. "I had no idea that Harry, Ron and Hermione were among those who'd arrived this evening. So when I heard her, I just...reacted."

My father looked at me for a moment more.

"And if I had just listened to Draco and stayed upstairs, he—and the others, I suppose—wouldn't have been distracted by my presence, trying to—trying to keep me safe. And if they hadn't been distracted, Harry wouldn't have gotten away."

"Trying to keep you safe?" he repeated as a question the part of my excuse where I'd stumbled over my words. All I was able to do in response was nod.

"And that's all they were trying to do?" he asked. "Bellatrix wasn't trying to see how well you would stomach watching your former friends tortured? Greyback wasn't trying to get a piece of you?"

I was unable to answer him.

The Dark Lord slowly turned away from me, to face the four fully grown wizards standing, lying or sitting on the other side of the room. "And you would have her take the blame?" he asked them. No one responded.

"So my daughter, who wasn't given any responsibility regarding Harry Potter is to blame for his escape? That's what you are all telling me?" he asked.

Bellatrix's face lifted into an unflattering sneer.

"Bellatrix?" my father singled her out. "Wasn't it you questioning my daughter's loyalty earlier today?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Funnily enough, that didn't surprise me.

"And now? When she is taking the blame for your blunder?"

"It is only to win your favor, my Lord. She would have gone with them, had she the chance."

"_Crucio!_"

I dropped my gaze, so I didn't have to watch her writhe silently in pain. Knowing she wasn't screaming just told me she'd been tortured enough to learn not to. And that disgusted me.

"If she would have gone with them, had she the chance, _Bellatrix_, she would be gone," my father reasoned. "Because you obviously gave these young wizards plenty of chance."

"Draco pulled her away from them. Draco kept her here against her will, as he's been doing all year. She's no daughter of yours. She's too much of her mother."

"_Crucio!_" my father roared, his anger worse than ever. One thing you learned early on with my father was to never mention my mother. When he lifted the curse, he pulled Bellatrix up slightly off the ground by her hair, "If it weren't for your unwavering loyalty to me, Bellatrix, you would be dead." And he threw her back to the ground such that her head hit the ground with a sickening thud.

"Anyone else?" he turned to the rest of the adults in the room. "Anyone else wish to question my daughter's loyalty to me after she stuck her necks out for you after your disappointing performance this evening?"

No one spoke. No one dared to move.

"Would anyone like to step forward and tell me who is really to blame for this terrific gaffe?" he asked. Draco made to step forward. "Draco, you already tried and Arabella stopped you. You needn't try again."

Draco took my hand, remaining to steps behind me, but no other movement in the room occurred.

"No one?" he asked. "Alright then."

My father turned back to me, striding slowly to stand in front of me. I knew that my face betrayed my discomfort and fear. My father raised his wand, slowly. It was all I could do not to cringe in anticipation of the pain or scolding I was going to receive. He brought his left hand to my chin, holding it solidly in his long, cold fingers as he brushed his wand lightly over the cuts on my face, healing them instantly. He then removed the few shards of glass that had lodged themselves in the flesh of my arms, healing those cuts as well. I slowly released a shallow breath, hoping he didn't notice I was barely breathing.

"I left this house under the protection of half a dozen Death Eaters, three of which I know are fully trained, very accomplished wizards," my father said to me. His voice was calm and even, almost fatherly. "That many witches and wizards—plus a werewolf—should have been able to handle a hardly-trained wizard, a Mudlbood, and a blood-traitor buffoon."

I was too scared to argue with his choice of language. He kissed me on the forehead, before turning to look over my shoulder to Draco.

"Draco, please take my daughter to her room and return once she is comfortable and calm."

"Of course, my Lord," Draco bowed, before wrapping his arm around my waist and taking me from the room. As we made our way to the stairwell I could hear my father say, "As for the rest of you..." and then screams echoed across the hall.

"Come on, Arabella," Draco pulled me up the stairs.

He opened the door to my room, putting one hand on the small of my back to guide me into the room.

I sat down on the bench at the foot of my bed. I don't know how long I sat there, staring into space before I registered a pair of black shoes standing in front of me. I looked up. Draco stood there, his hands in his pockets, waiting.

"Oh, Draco!" I could see the collar of his shirt was soaking up the blood that had leaked from the cuts on his neck, but he had already gone to the bathroom to heal them and wash the blood off. I hung my head in my hands in despair.

"Let's get you washed up," he said, pulling me towards the washroom. He grabbed a washcloth from the shower rack, soaking it with warm water from the sink. He sat me down on a bench and ran the cloth up and down my arms. It wasn't long before the cloth was saturated in my blood. He walked back to the sink, wringing it out and rewetting it. He knelt down, placing a hand behind my neck so he could dab the dried blood off of my face and neck.

"Why not use magic?" I asked.

He ignored me for a moment, dabbing the spot over my eyebrow where the deepest gash had been.

"I've found," he said slowly, "that a warm, wet washcloth—and some love—does a much better job of healing and cleaning up wounds than any Scouring Spell."

"But Father already healed my wounds."

"Physically, that's true," he responded.

I watched him carefully for a moment. He kept his focus on what he was doing, only letting his eyes dart once to meet mine, and only for a second.

"Plus," his eyes twinkled with sarcasm, "somehow "_Scourgify"_ seems so impersonal."

I softened my features in appreciation at his attempt to use humor to cheer me up, but somehow smiling seemed completely out of place. He shifted slightly from where he was kneeling on the ground so that he could reach the places where I'd been cut on my neck. Before he could, I gently pushed his hand away.

"Draco, stop," I said.

He looked up at me confused.

"Why are you—after—how can you—" I buried my head in my hands once more. I heard the wet rag fall to the ground and felt Draco's hand pushing the hair out of my face.

"Bells, it'll be okay," he said softly. "They got away. They are safe, and Granger has this annoying way of bouncing back, so you know she'll be fine. And I know you wanted to go—"

"That's not why I'm crying!" I interrupted, almost laughing with the irony of the situation.

"Wait, what?" Draco shook his head.

"I tried to take the blame, and it didn't work. Now you and your family are in trouble with Father and it's all my fault! And here you are taking care of me," I cried. "And I _did_ want to escape with them. But I couldn't! And even then, when I screwed up the worst, Father is punishing everyone _but_ me!"

I was suddenly pulled from my seat into Draco's lap on the floor, he folded his arms around me, combing my hair with his fingertips.

"Love, love, love," he put his lips to my ear, "this is not your fault. This is the fault of every Death Eater in this house, but not yours. Harry Potter is the luckiest bloke alive and my aunt Bellatrix is completely bonkers; the combination of the two was bound to lead to some hullabaloo."

I laughed through my sob, a slightly painful occurrence.

"But what about your family?" I asked, not able to admit out loud that I knew they were all being tortured downstairs.

"I don't think the Dark Lord will cause any lasting harm."

"And what about you?" I sobbed even harder.

"I think I'll live," he chuckled.

"It's not funny!" I yelled, hitting him in the chest.

"I know, I know," he settled down, "I'm sorry."

"And I shouldn't be sitting up here all fine and dandy while your family is tortured by my father!" I sobbed again.

"Do you hear what you are saying, love?" Draco asked me. "You are obviously not fine and dandy. And you don't deserve a punishment from your father. You _never_ follow instructions I give you, so why should we be surprised?"

I just sobbed harder.

Draco began to rock me back and forth, "Plus, no one is as good as beating you up as yourself, Bella. No matter what I say you'll chastise yourself from here to the moon and back. No one needs to add to your own self-inflicted punishment. So stop."

We remained on the floor of the bathroom until my sobs subsided. Draco rocked me in his arms, tracing small circles on my arms and back in soothing way. When my breathing was even and deep, Draco lifted me from the floor, "Let's get you to bed, love."

He used his wand to pull back the covers of the bed, placing me on the mattress and covering me back up. He planted a kiss on my forehead before turning to go. I grabbed his hand before he could get too far.

"Will you stay?" I asked. "I don't think I'll sleep."

He placed his other hand on top of mine, patting it gently. I think he knew how hard it was for me to admit I needed someone, especially him.

"I have to check in downstairs, let your father know you are okay. But I'll be back just as soon as I can to check on you."

I nodded my head in the pillow, not trusting my voice.

"And I'll stay as long as you need me," he said.

I released his hand so he could move.

"Draco?" I said before he was out the door, "Thank you."

"Anytime, love," he responded. "And don't worry, all will be well."

As the door closed, I let the tears return. I had no reason to believe him. I didn't trust my father's temper. I lay awake, crying still. Iwas upset over losing Harry, Hermione and Ron. I was upset over Hermione's torture. And I was just as upset over those two things as I was the prospect of everyone being tortured by my father for their incredible getaway. I tried to listen for any hint that Draco was being hurt at the same time I tried not to listen for fear of that I would hear just that. It was almost painful. When I heard the door open and the pitter-patter of bare feet on the hardwood floor, I thought it was Trinky being sent to check on me. I was more than delighted to discover it was Draco, already in sweatpants and Slytherin house shirt completely uninjured.

"You're still awake?" he said, grabbing my hand and pulling a chair up so he could sit by my bed.

"Of course. I was worried," I responded.

"You cried again," he wiped the tears from my cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "Mother and Father are fine, tired, weak and a little battered from the chandelier, but fine. Bellatrix is groveling over your father as usual and Greyback has disappeared. Wormtail was found dead in the cellar, strangled by his own silver hand."

I flinched and another tear made it's way down my face.

"But it's not your fault, love," Draco reiterated. "The hand was made to turn against him if he betrayed the Dark Lord. And the Dark Lord heard my report and sent me back to be with you since you requested it."

"He wasn't angry with you?"

"Not so far as I can tell," Draco responded. "I think he's just glad you are here, safe, and requesting my presence."

He laughed at the last of these three. I ignored it but let out a sigh of relief.

"Now, go to sleep," he whispered softly, petting my head. "Just let it all go, and go to sleep. We'll deal with making sense of it all tomorrow."

I tried to relax. Sometimes Draco surprised me. Sometimes he could be the best friend I needed, a source of great advice and comfort. Sometime between the moment I'd met him and the time I'd gotten to know him, he'd changed. Somewhere along the line, he'd grown up. I gripped his hand tightly so he would have to extract himself and wake me when he wanted to leave. Funnily enough, I didn't notice when he moved, but he must have. Because, when I woke the next morning, my hand was still clasped tightly in his, but he was laying sound asleep in a makeshift collapsable bed that was set up right next to mine.

_AN: I know that the Malfoy Manor chapter did not occur until Easter Break in The Deathly Hallows but I needed this event to occur sooner as other events need to take place before the Gringotts breakin...anyway, you'll just have to wait and see! Please review, especially since I battled greatly with this chapter and how the events would occur and fit with the original bits written by Rowling before I felt it was up to being posted. I appreciate your input! _


	27. Chapter 27: Mission

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter, the magic, characters, or events of the original canon. There is a reason JK Rowling is as rich, famous, and loved as she is. I did create Bella and the events that occur in her individual life.

**XXVII. Mission**

Draco and I sat quietly in front of the fire, letting our breakfast digest a few days after the Harry Potter incident.

"I'm leaving," Draco said, breaking the comfortable silence.

I nearly choked on my tea.

"Leaving?"

"Yes," he said, without elaboration.

"For—for how long?"

"I don't know."

I waited to see what else he would say. I placed my tea on the silver tray that was resting on the coffee table in front of us.

"Your father has some business for me to take care of."

"Business?" I asked skeptically, even teasingly, as I leaned back into the couch cushions.

"Yes, _business_," he snapped, finally turning to look at me.

I put up my hands in defense, "Whoa, Draco, relax!"

"I'm sorry," he said rubbing his neck with one hand. "I'm just wound a little tight."

"Why is that?" I asked, honestly this time so as not to make him feel attacked.

"I'm leaving for a couple days, and you'll be alone here. I worry..."

"What do you have to worry about?" I asked seriously. "I'm surrounded by my father's dutiful little minions, sworn to protect me."

Draco gave me a look of sarcastic contempt, to which I only responded with a "you-know-I'm-right" smile.

"You have a knack for getting in trouble," he stated.

"Yeah..." I drawled, indicating he was just stating the obvious, "I've had that special knack since birth, what's new?"

"What's new is I won't be here to make sure you're safe, or bail you out of trouble if you get into it."

"It's not so much _if_..." I teased, "as _when_."

"Not funny," he glared at me.

"I'm sorry," I replied, not completely sincere.

He let his head and neck relax so he was staring at the floor, with his elbows on his knees.

"Look, Draco, I survived many years getting in and out of trouble on my own before you started taking responsibility for me. I think I can handle a few days."

"I still worry— "

"I know," I interrupted. "And I'll make sure I'm on my best behavior while your gone."

He looked at me skeptically.

"I'll be an angel," I teased.

He gave me a snide look, to which I replied by imitating the look of a halo over my head by making a ring with my hands.

While Draco was gone, I resumed my research on the Horcruxes in hopes of finding some more information on the location of Ravenclaw's tiara. I hadn't been able to find anything on its last known location, and unfortunately it was getting discouraging. I began to fear the only way I would discover anything about that particular item would be to ask my father, something I didn't think I would go over very well. My broaching of the subject of my mother as well as my going to train as a Healer or Potions Master had resulted in a very unpleasant week of awkward lessons with him after a nasty punishment. I wasn't really looking forward to the idea of that again, especially with Draco gone and my promise to be good still hanging in the air.

Meanwhile, Narcissa was putting together things for my birthday, and I was obliged to help her out. She taught me a very clever spell to set the quills to work writing out invitations in the most beautiful calligraphy, leaving our hands free to go over floral arrangements and menu items. If my birthday caused this much planning, I couldn't imagine what a Malfoy wedding would be like at Narcissa's command! Father had resumed lessons with me when he could pull himself away from searching for Harry Potter. We were thankfully taking a break from the Dark Arts and concentrating on the basics of wandless magic and more difficult wordless magic, which I apparently hadn't mastered to his liking while at Hogwarts. (I could do it perfectly well, if I do say so myself!)

"Father?" I'd finally collected myself after a lesson one afternoon.

"Yes, my child?"

"You know a lot about Hogwarts from your time there, right?" I started slowly.

"More than most, I'm sure," he said, demonstrating his usual arrogance.

"Well," I'd thought of various ways to broach this subject, and now was the moment of truth. "In my lessons with Mr. Malfoy, we talked a lot about Salazar Slytherin, but not about the other founders. And, I was just curious if you could tell me more about them."

"Anything in particular you'd like to know?" he asked, suspicion lacing the edges of his tone of voice.

"I was reading _Hogwarts, A History_ and I noticed each founder has an object that is always present in their portrait. Slytherin and his locket, Gryffindor and his sword, Hufflepuff and her cup, and Ravenclaw and her tiara..."

"Diadem," my father interrupted.

"Diadem?"

"Yes, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem."

"So it's real then?"

"Of course it's real," he replied. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, no one's mentioned it or seen it for years," I commented, hoping he wouldn't ask how I came to that conclusion.

"And how did you come to that conclusion?" he asked, and I mentally snapped my fingers in discouragement.

"I've seen the Gryffindor sword myself; Mr. Malfoy mentioned the locket of Slytherin concretely, as if he'd seen it; there is a picture, instead of just a portrait, of Hufflepuff's cup in a book on the founders in the Hogwarts library; but no mention of the diadem of Ravenclaw is made beyond her famous portrait in which she wears it."

"Why all of a sudden this interest in the Founders, my daughter?"

I shrugged, "They were powerful wizards. Why not learn from the best?"

My father eyed me carefully for a moment, and I feared the worst: that he knew I was fishing for information on his Horcruxes. I sensed he was attempting to penetrate my mind, so I immediately put up the mental barriers Snape had trained me to put in place. My father sensed this and narrowed his eyes.

"If you didn't want me to know how to close my mind to you, Father," I told him, "You should not have had Severus Snape teach me Occlumency."

A slow smile spread across his lips.

"Perhaps you are more like your father than anyone originally thought, my Arabella," he commented. That thought made my stomach flip uncomfortably. "Tomorrow, I think, will be a good day for me to introduce you to a...different...kind of magic."

I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly what he meant by that, and it made me just a little sick. Just as I turned to leave, taking his last comment as a dismissal, his wand caught my eye.

"Father? Where did you get that wand?" He wasn't holding his old yew wand, but one that looked suspiciously familiar, one I'd last seen in the possession of Albus Dumbledore.

"Why do you ask, little one?" he said nonchalantly.

"It looks like Professor Dumbledore's," I answered truthfully.

"Oh?" he questioned, holding up the wand to inspect it. "Does it now?"

"Yes," I persisted.

I looked at him directly, almost glaring. With a wave of his wand the doors to the room slammed shut and locked. The Dark Lord then tucked the wand that I was so convinced was Dumbledore's in his sleeve as he always did. He then clasped his hands behind his back, pacing toward the windows at the other end of the dais.

"Have you heard of the Wand of Destiny, Arabella?"

"The _what_?" I asked.

"The Wand of Destiny," he said. "It's a legendary wand with a very bloody past. It is the most powerful wand in existence and has been passed down from owner to owner, until it came to rest with the late Albus Dumbledore."

"You robbed his grave?" I exploded with anger, taking this information as confirmation that the wand in his sleeve had indeed been the late Dumbledore's. "You realize that's illegal, not to mention completely immoral, right?"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized who I was talking to. Illegal and immoral were two concepts that meant nothing to the creature in front of me. My father just let out a cackle of amusement that made my stomach flip uncomfortably for the second time. I wasn't sure if I would be able to keep my lunch down for the rest of the day if it continued on like this.

"Now the wand is in my control, and no one will be able to defeat me," he said menacingly. "Not even Harry Potter."

As he said that, I sent up a silent prayer that this particular belief wasn't true. I prayed that Harry Potter would be able to defeat my father despite the wand. I didn't know much about wand-lore save that the "wand chooses the wizard," like Mr. Ollivander said to Harry and me that first day in Diagon Alley. It seemed to me I had some more research to do than just that on Horcruxes. How I wished Hermione were there to help me figure it all out!

"I will see you tomorrow for your next lesson," he said, effectively dismissing me from the room. I bowed out respectfully and headed to the library to (hopefully) settle in with a stack of books on wands and the magical rules regarding their ownership.

I hadn't realized how accustomed I'd become to Draco's presence until he wasn't around for several days. I kept Shadow around as company for the times I would have been with Draco. I took him for walks in the snow-covered garden daily, and he would lay his head in my lap and bask in the glory of getting his ears scratched while I read in the library. He'd gotten a lot bigger since that summer when he'd attacked me with his slobber, but he was well-behaved enough to come and sleep on my comforter at night. He would wake me every once and a while to leave the room. After the first night, when I'd had to fumble in the dark in order to open the door for him, I left the door open just a crack so he could come and go as he pleased.

The fourth night Draco was gone, I fell asleep while reading, Shadow laying haphazardly on my lap. Shadow stirred, and I let the book fall to the ground.

"Shadow?" I mumbled, more in sleep than out. I heard his collar jingle and the his nails ticking across the floor. I settled down into my bed and rolled over onto my side as I realized he was just taking his nightly bathroom break. I fumbled trying to reach for the comforter to pull it up over my shoulders, but before I could grasp it, someone pulled it up and over me. I blinked a few times to focus my eyes in the dark.

"Draco?"

"Hey, love," came his reply.

"When did you get back?" I asked, looking him up and down. He was still in his traveling cloak and shoes.

"Just now, " he sat on the bed, his feet still solidly on the ground, running his hand down my head.

"And you came to see me?" I asked skeptically, but a little pleased.

"I haven't seen you for several days," he answered in an almost sentimental manner

I took a deep breath and shifted to a different position under the covers.

"Have you been in a burning building?" I asked, wrinkling my nose at the scent of smoke.

Draco leaned back to get a look at me, a peculiar look on his face.

"Why do you ask?"

"Something smells like smoke. And I've only just noticed it since you came in."

I took hold of the long sleeve of his traveling cloak and took another whiff.

"Yep. It's most definitely you," I looked up to find his eyes, which darted away quickly.

"Were you in a burning building, Draco?" I asked again.

"No," he said nonchalantly.

"Then why do you smell like smoke?" I asked.

"No idea," he shrugged, finally returning my gaze.

We looked at each other in silence for a moment.

"Get out,"

"What?"

"I said, 'Get out,'" I repeated. "Get out of my room. I don't want you in my room knowing you just got back from burning down some—thing—and probably something that's important to me or to someone I love."

"I go on a mission with Bellatrix and Greyback and you automatically assume _I_ burnt it down?"

"So you admit to being on a mission for my father," I said. "And you admit you were present when something was burnt down."

"Bella—"

"Oh no, Draco. You either tell me what you did, or you get the hell out of my room."

"You know I can't tell you."

"Yes you can."

"It's not that easy."

"Sure it is," I said mocking his previous nonchalant manner, "You just say, 'Bella, I burnt down so-and-so's house, or such-and-such thing.'"

"I'm under orders."

"From my father," I supplied.

"Well, obviously."

"And you are incapable of thinking for yourself?" I prodded once again.

"We've already had this conversation," he ran his hand down his face, standing from the bed.

"You mean we've already had this fight," I corrected.

"Bella, there are lives at stake!" he yelled, turning back to me.

"And there weren't when you burnt something down?" I asked, the inflection of my voice going down in disbelief. Before he could open his mouth to protest, I championed on, standing from my bed and pointing my finger at him, poking at his chest with each question: "How many lives were lost? How many did you kill, Draco?"

"None!" he was upset. "And I was following orders."

"Do I know any of them? Were they our classmates? Did we live and learn with them, Draco? And you did it because someone _ordered_ you to?"

"Now you're just jumping to conclusions!"

"Well, you aren't giving me much to go on here!"

"Because I can't! The Dark Lord forbade me," he protested.

"And you blindly do whatever he says?"

"No."

I looked at him, my eyebrows raised in disbelief, my arms crossed in front of me waiting for a response.

"He threatens my mother's life, my father's life,_ my _life as well as your happiness and livelihood should I not obey orders. So don't you dare presume you know what my motives are, Arabella. Don't you _dare—_"

"Don't threaten me, Draco. Don't lie to me about my father threatening _me _to black mail you because he wouldn't."

"He knows I love you. You don't think he exploits that?"

"Oh, and how would he exploit that, Draco?" I asked, one hand on my hip.

"There are half a dozen other young Death Eaters within an appropriate age range to marry you to," Draco said.

"What?" I nearly laughed, but I stopped when I saw Draco's face.

"He would," was Draco's comment, answering my unspoken assertion.

"I'm not marrying any of you," I burst out. "Okay? No one can make me marry a Death Eater."

"Your father can," this time he seemed un-phased by the Death Eater comment.

"Okay, stop it, Draco. You are distracting me from the real issue, which is you coming home smelling like you've been in a fire. So you either tell me what you burnt down so I can get properly angry with you, or you leave my room now so I can be improperly furious with you."

He looked at me.

"Your choice," I shrugged.

"You can be really selfish sometimes, Arabella," Draco said, spitefully. "Not everything is about you."

"No, I know it's not all about me," I answered him. "But you made it about me when you came in here smelling of smoke and wouldn't tell me what happened on your trip when I know if you won't tell me something it has to do with people close to me, and you just think you're protecting me. You made it about me when you told me you do as my father tells you to protect not just you and your family, but me, too. You made it about me when we made that agreement to _work together_."

"That was a business agreement to make sure we looked like a couple, Bells, nothing more," his tone was still rough and rude.

"Nothing more," I repeated, and then to myself I mumbled: "Following orders. A business agreement. Nothing more."

It was then that Draco realized what he had said, his eyes widened and he stepped forward with his arms open: "Bella—" he said, his voice gentle, but I put my hand up to stop him.

"Just go," I barely said aloud, turning to move towards the bed. "Please."

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand in despair before heading out the door, only pausing once to look at me again before closing the door gently.

I sat in my bed for a while, thinking. Had Draco ever really loved me, or had everything been a business agreement? Was this forced betrothal between us really something he wanted from his heart, or just his selfish need for money, power and notoriety? I felt a little bit hurt, a lot betrayed and like a complete idiot. Once again I'd been fooled by a young man who thought for no one but himself. Once again, I'd been let down. Was I really so thick? It seemed I would forever play the part of the fool when it came to relationships. I had just begun to think Draco was different and to question the way I had previously felt and thought about him. Luckily, before I'd given him too much of myself, he'd revealed his true nature and I'd been spared more heartbreak and embarrassment. Because Merlin knew heartbreak and embarrassment were familiar friends of mine! I was pretty sure I wasn't going to get much sleep tonight, but I still wiggled my way under the covers and attempted to relax just to let my body rest from the day, even if my mind got no relief.

_AN: Sorry it's short, and not my best work, but I wanted a divide between this chapter and the next. That said, I hope to have that chapter up in the next couple days as it is one that has been planned from the beginning. Wait, in fact...the next TWO chapters have been planned since the beginning! Alright...enough about what's to come, let me know what you think!_


	28. Chapter 28: The Birthday Party

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Harry Potter or anything from the original canon by J.K. Rowling. I did, however, create Arabella.

**XXVIII. The Birthday Party**

As I finished fastening the final clip, I stepped in front of the full length mirror to get a look at myself. My birthday dress was short sleeved and made of white gossamer that flowed gently to the floor in a pool at my feet. Small purple beads decorated the waist line and the sheer sleeves. My hair was done up in an elaborate curly up do, with a headband that matched the style of my dress to keep the hair out of my face, save those few purposeful curls left to frame my cheeks. I didn't quite recognize myself in the mirror as I stared at my reflection dully. My hair and makeup were done more fancily than I'd ever seen it and in a manner I wouldn't have ever requested myself. But it seemed to me Narcissa was living vicariously through my experiences. And it made her happy, which seemed more important at the moment than my own personal discomfort.

I hadn't heard the door open or any footsteps, but as I looked in the reflection of the mirror I saw Draco step behind me.

"You look...beautiful," he breathed.

I smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

"I have something for you," he approached me, lifting a necklace over my head and around my neck, fastening it with his cool hands. My hand went up immediately to them. Pearls. In shades of purple and pink.

"Happy Birthday, Bella," he whispered.

"Thank you," I said back.

"Look, Bella—" he started.

"Draco, don't," I interrupted, turning to face him. Before he could speak again, the door opened and Narcissa tiptoed in.

Draco heaved a sigh. "Don't forget the matching earrings," he said, handing me a little velvet box.

"Oh, Arabella, you look stunning!" Narcissa beamed from behind her son. I smiled in thanks to her as I took the earrings from the box and placed them in my ears.

"All thanks to you, Narcissa."

"Oh, nonsense," she waved my comment away. She embraced me, kissing me on both cheeks. "Happy Birthday! Now, you two ought to come down now, everyone is waiting!" And with that she shuffled out the door.

Draco looked at me almost pleadingly.

"Shall we get this over with, then?" I asked, sitting down on the end of my bed to put on my shoes.

"It's your birthday. It's a party. It should be fun," Draco said.

"Yes, of course," I sighed.

"Bella, you should have said something earlier if you didn't want this for your birthday. We could have done something small and simple," he said.

"Your mother just seemed so excited," I replied despairingly.

"You are like the daughter she never had," he pointed out, "and she adores spoiling you."

"I know," I looked down at my finger nails. "And I appreciate it and love her for it."

Draco was silent, and I looked up to catch his eyes.

"We need to talk about—"

"—not right now, Draco," I said, interrupting him.

He nodded, "I know. But at some point."

"Sure," I responded, nodding my head.

Draco held out his hand to me, and I took it, standing from the bed and walking with him to the door. He paused before opening the door, squaring his shoulders to face me.

"You'll work with me tonight, love? Even though we had a fight?" he seemed tense and worried.

"Why are you so worried?" I asked.

"I just—" he let out a large breath of air, "I just hate to fight with you."

"I won't fight you, Draco," I said. "Just as I promised at the Black and White ball."

"Thank you," he kissed me on the forehead, before taking my hand and placing it in the crook of his arm.

He led me down the hall of the Manor I'd become so accustomed to, but the murmur of voices echoing up from below was altogether unfamiliar. The chatter seemed especially light-hearted, even more upbeat than the tone for a regular ball. As we approached the stairwell, I caught sight of the entrance hall. Small groups of people were gathered in clumps and circles to chat. Some guests were just handing their coats to the house elves at the door, placing beautifully wrapped gifts onto an already over-flowing table. I sighed in contempt at the knowledge of how many unnecessary gifts I would receive and how many overly-cordial thank you notes would be written in the coming days. Draco stopped for a moment before we descended the stairs in an attempt to make sure we were seen. It seemed a little over-the-top to me. But then again, at the Malfoy's, what wasn't?

Narcissa once again embraced me as we reached the main floor. She then ushered us into the ballroom, converted into a shining party room with sparkling fairy lights, purple drapes and a live band. Along the dais that usually held my father's chair was a long table with a purple table cloth and a dark purple runner, just as Narcissa had picked out the day Harry Potter got away. Round tables were set up around the edges of the room, allowing the dance floor to hold the center of attention. Each table had a purple table cloth, a place setting for dinner and a beautiful floral arrangement of purple, lilac and cream roses, each with their petals lined with gold.

"Would you like to dance?" Draco whispered in my ear after I'd spent some time taking in the spectacle of the room.

"I'd love to," I sighed, hoping the party would aid in lifting my spirits.

After a dance, Draco and I drifted around the room in the obligatory greeting of the guests. I was grateful that he remained by my side as he knew more of the guests than I did, and he saved me more than once from the embarrassment of having to ask for someone's name and relation to my father or the Malfoy family. Just when we'd made it most of the way around the room, a bell rang to indicate dinner. I looked around for Narcissa as I didn't know where to sit, but Draco led me to the head table, sitting me down at the center. It was very uncomfortable to know everyone would be watching me during dinner while I sat above them as if they were my subjects and I their queen.

Just like at Hogwarts, each course magically appeared on our plates. All of the dishes were laid out beautifully and were extraordinarily rich, though wonderfully tasty. I was just elated when my purple mug appeared full of tea, knowing full well Trinky was to thank for that. After dinner came more dancing; I danced a few with Blaise and Theo, but when I went to find Draco again he had effectively disappeared.

"Narcissa?" I approached the woman talking with Rose Parkinson and Blaise's beautiful mother. All three women stopped and looked up, surprised.

"Why, Arabella, you look simply stunning this evening," Mrs. Parkinson said.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Parkinson," I returned. "I'm so very sorry to interrupt, but Narcissa, have you seen your son?"

"Actually," Mrs. Parkisnon interceded before Narcissa could even form a response, "I believe my Pansy is with him in the garden."

"Thank you," I said, slightly taken aback. I recovered quickly, though, "Will you excuse me?" And with a curtsy, I made my way over to the punch bowl.

"Arabella," Narcissa approached me as I ladled some punch into a crystal cup, "You mustn't think less of Draco for speaking with Pansy alone."

I just looked at the woman, my face blank as I took a sip of the red liquid. I was trying to hide that I was more amused than upset. Draco and I had already discussed Pansy—more than once—and I actually pitied him being trapped alone with her.

"They've had a long past, and Pansy isn't one to let her dreams fall apart before her if she can help it. But Draco's eyes are only for you, my dear."

"Narcissa, it's fine," I said looking up as Draco entered the hall. "Draco and I have already talked about this." He was scanning the crowd in search of someone. Probably me. I looked back at Narcissa, who looked slightly flabbergasted at my calm response. "I see Draco now; will you excuse me?"

"Of—of course, dear," she said, her face indicating she was still slightly stunned.

With that, I set the cup down again on the table, where it disappeared down to the kitchens to be cleaned and returned for another use by another guest. By the time this had occurred, Draco had disappeared from the entryway. I scanned the room quickly. Blaise and Nott were arguing in the corner—about Quidditch, no doubt—Pansy had re-entered and was whispering in a circle of Pureblood girls across the way from me, her back was to me so I couldn't see her expression. As I moved away from the punch table, I was quickly intercepted by the very young man I was trying to find.

"Arabella," he grasped hold of my wrist. "Ms. Zabini said you were looking for me."

"How was your chat with Pansy?" I asked, sarcastically cheerful.

He ran his hand through his hair, "Ridiculous."

"That good huh?"

He sent me a significant look.

"I'm sorry," I put my hand on his arm sympathetically.

"It's not your fault she can't listen and can be as thick as a nasty Polyjuice potion."

That made me laugh, and I could tell my reaction pleased Draco.

"You seem in a better mood," he pointed out.

"Birthdays can do that to me," I replied.

"You are still cross with me though," he stated rather than asked.

"Rather," I admitted. "But we'll talk it through again and make things right. We always do."

My favorite waltz began to play, and Draco looked up at the band.

"It's your song," he pointed out. "Won't you dance with me?"

"That implies I have a choice, which I usually do not," I teased.

"You do. You are the birthday girl! But you'd feel terrible if you missed your favorite song just to prove a point."

I knew he was right, so I put my hand in his and let him lead me onto the dance floor.

He whirled me about, and it almost made me forget we'd not been getting along these past few weeks. Almost.

"Bells?" he whispered in my ear once more, as the last refrain began.

"Hm?" I looked up at him in response.

"You know I love you more than anyone, right?"

"I think so," came my slow response.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice laced with preoccupation of some sort.

I looked up into his gray eyes, which had taken on a strange tint due to the lighting and the purple draperies.

"Y-y-yes," I stuttered, a little unnerved.

"Then whatever you do in the next minute, just say 'yes.'"

"What?" I searched his face, completely baffled.

"Just say 'yes,'" he urged as the last cadence sounded and he came to a stop.

I looked at him, terrified, as he reached for the inside coat pocket of his dress robes. He took one knee, and I looked up to see my father, sitting on the dais overlooking the scene, my wand held precariously in his hands such that one flick of the wrist would result in it snapping. It was a silent threat only I understood.

"Draco, please, no," I whispered, realizing what he was about to do.

He looked up at me, the little black box at his fingertips. Everyone in the hall had hushed and was watching. I shook my head almost imperceptibly, begging him not to ask. His eyes were full of melancholy apologies and sparkled as if he were just as upset about this as I was.

"Arabella Rose Riddle," he said loudly, for the whole room to hear, "will you do the honor of being my wife?"

I looked up at my father once more and then down at Draco. I covered my mouth with my right hand to indicate shock as well as to cover up a lack of smile. I nodded as tears fell silently down my cheeks, sticking out my left hand for him. Luckily no one knew they weren't the tears of joy they were passing for. I looked up just in time to see my father carefully placing my wand in his robes before joining in the applause that had broken out. Draco embraced me after he'd slipped the ring on, pulling me tight against him and placing one hand on my upper back such that I could feel each individual fingers against my skin.

"You're an angel," he whispered in my ear, his voice full of gratitude.

He turned away from me, keeping one hand in mine and faced the room of people with a smile. I couldn't look at the people for a moment, just staring at Draco beside me. A squeeze from his hand helped pull me back from my personal thoughts, and I turned as well to look out on the room. I caught Narcissa's face, she was smiling and crying, her perfectly manicure nails were wiping tears from her face. Blaise and Nott were hooting and hollering from the corner where they had formerly been. The only other person crying in the room was Pansy Parkinson, and she was darting as quickly through the crowd as she could to get to the door, her mother in hot pursuit behind her. As the band struck up another of my favorite tunes, Draco pulled me back into his arms.

"A moment alone, dear?" I barely gritted through my teeth.

We walked serenely from the ballroom, across the hallway and into Narcissa's parlor, accepting congratulations and hugs all along the way.

"Draco, Miss Riddle?" Lucius Malfoy called before we could complete our journey across the entrance hall.

"Yes Father?" Draco asked.

"You should remain with the guests," he said.

"We need to talk," I said.

"You can do that later."

"We'll do it now, sir," I insisted. "But we will be out in less than fifteen minutes."

Lucius Malfoy sent me one of those looks that make you shudder at the thought of what would happen to you if looks really could kill.

"How _dare_ you talk back to me," he exclaimed quietly, so as not to alert the guests to a disturbance.

"I'm not your daughter-in-law yet,_ sir_," I said rudely.

"Let them talk, Lucius," Narcissa appeared out of nowhere behind her husband. "The newly engaged couple deserves a moment or two alone."

I took the opportunity to turn away from the group and go straight into the parlor. Choice words were shared between the Malfoys, I'm sure, but I took no notice, sitting on the footstool of the wing-backed chair in the middle of the room. Draco entered a moment later, sighing heavily and coming to stand with his hands in his pockets a few feet away from me. I sat in silence for a while, and Draco didn't bother to break the silence, though I could feel him staring at me. I felt as if I wanted to explode at him, screaming and kicking and crying. But we were both so tired of fighting. And I knew I was going to have to grow up. I hadn't taken notice of the ring before now, but it was breathtaking, to say the least. It sat comfortably on my left ring finger, feeling strange to be there. I didn't know much about diamonds or rings, but I knew this was ornately cut and laid in a beautiful manner.

"Do you like it?" he whispered, catching my stare at the ring.

"It's—it's—" I sighed and looked up at him, "More than I deserve, Draco."

He walked towards me, taking one hand out of his pocket, holding it out to me. I took and let him lift me from the seat. I followed him to the couch so we could sit next to each other.

"Why didn't you warn me?" I asked. My voice was even and calm, even though I felt slightly enraged.

"Your father wanted it to be a surprise," he responded.

"Why?" I asked.

"So he could test your loyalty as well as control your response."

"Control freak," I muttered under my breath.

"If you are just figuring that out now, you obviously haven't been paying attention this year," he smirked at me.

"Couldn't you have just hinted a little?" I asked.

"No," Draco said solidly.

"Everything is a secret between us," I bowed my head in defeat.

"Yeah, it seems that way, doesn't it?" Draco looked at me, keeping one hand in mine and tracing small circles on the back of my hand with the pointer finger of his other hand.

"I don't like it."

"Neither do I, love."

"What happens if we _do_ marry, and we are still lying to each other?"

"_If_ we marry? Love, I don't think you have a choice but to marry me. Not as long as our fathers are alive."

I remained silent, letting what I already knew instinctively set in.

"And _when_ we are married, there won't be any more secrets," Draco proclaimed.

I looked at him skeptically.

"I promise," he said looking at me so intensely it made me uncomfortable.

"We're too young," I argued, looking away from his intense eyes.

"No younger than my parents were," he debated.

"I don't want to be married yet," I replied. "I want more time."

Draco looked down, extracting his hand from mine. My heart sunk as I realized how I'd hurt him. Before I could say something to redeem myself, he had already formed a response.

"Bella," he spoke quietly, "I know this is not how you pictured your engagement. I understand wanting to be older and have a career before getting married. But we don't have that choice. We're living in a war, and our parents are controlling our future."

He shifted in his seat to take my hands and look into my face again. I squirmed in discomfort.

"But, Bells, I promise that I love you and I will do whatever I can to make you happy. I will respect you, protect you, and stand beside you. I will try to listen, and only say _try_ because I know men are terrible listeners. You make me so happy, and I couldn't ask for someone better to spend my life with. And I know you don't feel the same way about me, but I pray that you may change your mind. Or, at the very least, learn to live comfortably with me."

I gulped down the lump in my throat.

"Either you are the greatest actor and I the best fool," I said, "or I am indeed the luckiest girl to be forced into a marriage with a young man as honest and kind as you are."

Draco gave me a sad smile. There was a quiet knock on the door. Narcissa entered.

"Time for cake!" she said excitedly, though warily.

"We'll be right out, Mother," Draco said, his back to his mother and his voice betraying no emotion.

When she had left, I grasped Draco's hand forcefully.

"Thank you, Draco."

"For what?" he asked.

"For a beautiful birthday gift," I said touching my pearls, "And an exquisite engagement ring."

"I wish I could give you what you really want," he said as we stood and headed towards the door.

"No one really knows what they want," I argued as we entered the busy hall. I was still holding his hand as he greeted Nott Sr.

And as he was all fake-smiles, I whispered to myself as the thought occurred to me out of the blue, "But, maybe you'll be giving me what I need. Whether I know it or not."

As we reentered the ball room the hall broke into a chorus of "Happy Birthday" in at least as many different musical keys as there were people in attendance. A huge cake was resting on a small table placed in the center of the dance floor. Several tiers of chocolate cake with chocolate fudge filling was covered in purple (of course!) chocolate fondant. I sincere smile spread across my face at the presence of all those people singing for me, as well as their attempt to fit my whole name into the song in one beat. I thought quickly of a worthwhile wish to make as I blew the candles out from on top of the cake, each candle poking out from a sugar rose strategically placed around the tiers. As old as I would ever get, I knew myself well enough that I was sure I would never outgrow the excitement of blowing out my birthday cake candles. A large light flashed indicating a picture had been taken, and the cake was levitated away to be cut and served.

"What did you wish for?" Draco asked in my ear.

"If I tell you, it won't come true," I said.

His already sad smile faded.

"And then you'd never get to see it for yourself," I hinted. At this, ever so slightly, his face lifted.

I'd wished what I knew I would pray for every day from now on: that Draco and I, whether we loved each other deeply or not, would be able to build a happy home and live a happy life...together.

I paced the entrance hall, wringing my hands and fiddling with my ring. He should've been home by now. He'd _promised. _ And Draco didn't break his promises to me lightly. Three days, he said. He'd be home by dinner time on the third day. It was almost 9 pm and there had been no word from anyone on the mission.

"Arabella, dear, I'm sure they are fine," Narcissa exited the breakfast room to check on me. She'd been just as nervous, but more patient in waiting for their return. Both her husband and her son were among the mission party, giving her much more to worry about.

"Come and have a cup of tea," she said half-heartedly. She'd suggested that at least six times since dinner.

I just crossed my arms, rubbing my hands up and down my upper arms as much to warm myself as to comfort myself. After a moment more, Narcissa gave up and returned to her seat on the window cushion looking out onto the Malfoy property, awaiting the arrival of her family. I paced a few more times and was startled by a pop and the presence of Trinky holding a familiar purple mug up at me.

"Please, Mistress," she squeaked, "Drink. It will comfort you."

I smiled down at the elf.

"Mistress Malfoy is very worried, and so is Trinky!"

I took the mug with a quiet "thank you." I took a sip of the liquid without looking to see what it was. The warm chocolate hit my stomach and filled my body with warmth from both the heat of the drink and the nature of the chocolate. It lifted my spirits only artificially, as it reminded me of Draco forcing hot chocolate down my throat after my first Occlumency lesson with Snape. I didn't notice when Trinky disappeared, but I set the mug down again on a table carrying a bouquet left over from my birthday party so that I could pace once more.

It wasn't much longer before I stopped in my tracks halfway across the hall, a loud pop and a scuffle sounded from just outside the front door. I sprinted towards the door, flinging it open to reveal Lucius leaning heavily on his walking stick, Dolohov holding one hand over his left eye, and Mulciber holding a limp Draco Malfoy in his arms. I ushered them in, calling for Narcissa and the head house elf. I've heard tell of adrenaline giving people the ability to think clearly in the most dire of situations, and it was to that little biological chemical that I could accredit my ability to spring into action.

"Trinky!" I yelled as I directed Dolohov to Draco's bedroom. A short pop told me she was by my side as I took the stairs two at a time. "Inform my father of the arrival of the party and then go to Hogwarts and get Professor Snape."

Blood was streaming down Draco's arms and leaving a small trail of blood behind us as we made it into his bedroom. I summoned an extra sheet and blanket to lay down over his beautiful bedspread. As soon as he was laid down, I sent Mulciber back downstairs to check on the others. Narcissa appeared as I began to chant over her son's bleeding form. I recognized the Sectumsempra curse immediately, but I knew I could only slow the bleeding, not heal the wounds. Snape was the best person to reverse the effects of the curse he created. Narcissa let out a short sob as she came to sit by her son, holding his hand tightly. My attempt wasn't working; I prayed that Snape would arrive soon, knowing this was beyond my magical ability.

I heard a scream echo from below that sounded suspiciously like Mulciber being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. I tried to push the thought to the back of my mind, concentrating on doing what I could for Draco. If he continued to bleed much longer, he would die, of that I could be sure.

The door burst open and Snape came striding in, his cloak billowing behind him.

"I did what I could to slow the bleeding, but I don't know how to stop it," I said.

He gave me a curt nod, and as he had done that day in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom he began to traced the wounds with his wand, muttering in a sing-song sort of way. I backed away, terrified until I tripped and fell into the seat of a wooden chair nearby. I looked down at myself to see I was covered in Draco's blood, as was the floor.

"I need to return to Hogwarts to obtain a blood replenishing potion," Snape finally broke the silence. He was talking with Narcissa, who was just nodding her head as tears streamed down her face.

He hustled from the room and returned less than five minutes later. He administered one vial of the potion to Draco, placing three more flasks on his bedside table.

"He will sleep. I don't know for how long. Give him a vial every two hours. I will return with other potions for him later today when I have brewed them," Snape directed curtly to Narcissa. She just nodded silently.

He approached me where I was sitting. "I assume you heard what I instructed Narcissa?"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't know that she'll remember, so I'm trusting you to double check it gets done right."

"Of course."

"I must go talk with your father."

"Yes," I said, and then looking up at him, "Thank you!"

He nodded once and swept from the room.

Narcissa left a little while later to go check on Dolohov and Lucius. A house elf came to clean the floor, another to change the bed and Draco's clothes for him. While that was done, I returned to my room to shower and put on some clean clothes. I returned in enough time to administer the next dose of Draco's blood replenishing potion. He hadn't woken up, and I had to use a cold wet cloth to try and get water into his mouth (shooting the Aguamenti spell down his throat seemed a little forceful). Narcissa returned later, worried about the dosage and relieved to see I'd taken care of it. Lucius was resting in the master bedroom and would be perfectly fine. Dolohov's eye had been replaced by the Dark Lord, and he and Mucliber had been tortured for another failed mission. I hadn't decided whether the replacement eye was a good thing or bad thing, but I was erring on the side of bad after Wormtail's fateful run-in with his possessed hand.

Snape returned with more blood replenishing potion just in time as well as some hydrating and healing potions. He gave me a withering look as he left the room once more, and I couldn't quite make out the murmuring that occurred between him and Narcissa in the hall.

I drifted in and out of sleep, sitting in the hard wooden chair with a blanket over my legs, one of my hands in one of Draco's. I had an on-going alarm for ever two hours to make sure I didn't miss his doses. I don't know how long I spent trying to make Draco comfortable, even though I knew he was unconscious, but I didn't really care. I was fairly certain at one point that my father had entered and that I had carried on a conversation with him, but I had no recollection of it later that night. It was more than a day later when I twitched awake in the middle of the night, and for something to do, refilled the washbasin with cold water from my wand tip. I ran the washcloth over his dry lips. I looked up only when I realized a figure was standing behind me and to the side.

"How long have you been here?" Snape asked snidely.

"Since you came back with the replenishing potion refills," I responded.

"So going on 36 hours here," he said.

"I suppose so," I shrugged.

"You need to get some sleep."

"I have," I responded, leaning back in the chair so I could look at him. "I've been drifting in and out, but making sure I wake up to give him his potions."

"That's not real sleep. And have you eaten?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to respond, but found that I couldn't answer that question because I couldn't remember.

"Get up from that chair and go get some food, sleep...and a shower."

"I don't smell," I protested.

"I didn't say you did," he said glibly.

"What if he wakes up?" I asked, turning back to Draco.

"I'll stay here while you go take care of yourself—"

"—but—"

"—because if you don't take care of yourself, how can you ever take care of him?"

I glared at him, because we both knew he was right and had won.

"Only one other person knows and uses that horrid curse you created," I commented, looking once more at the motionless body on the bed.

"I know," Snape said quietly.

"He should know better," I scolded, "after what happened Sixth Year."

"Potter has always been selfish and arrogant."

"He's not arrogant," I defended. "But he can be really thick sometimes. And he hasn't been known to use his best judgement."

"That's an understatement," Snape growled.

I leaned over in my seat, holding my head in my hands. I felt a warm hand against my back; Snape's feeble attempt to comfort me.

"At least get a shower and some food. Then you can come back, how's that?" he suggested.

"Fine," I said. I grudgingly pushed myself up from my seat, bundled the blanket up and left it in my seat.

When I arrived in my room, I called Trinky and asked for a breakfast tray before hitting the shower. When I came out clean and dressed in actual robes (instead of my former ill-fitting sweatpants) a tray of scrambled eggs, toast, pancakes and oatmeal as well as hot chocolate and tea was resting on the coffee table beside my book on wand lore and in front of a roaring fire.

"How much does that little elf think I can eat?" I exclaimed to myself. She was observant enough to know I hadn't eaten in more than a day, but trying to make up for three lost meals in one sitting just wasn't going to work out. I sat down and ate a little bit of everything, including the hot chocolate, but I was too preoccupied with getting back to check on Draco to really sit and eat. I also knew Snape would send me back for another shower or another meal or something else equally ridiculous if I came back too soon. I attempted to read, but found myself too distracted, so I returned the book to its spot and left the room in the direction of Draco's.

I heard voices coming from the room before I reached the door, which was open just a crack. I recognized one as Snape's, the other I realized after a moment was Draco's. I nearly burst through the door in the excitement that he was awake, alive and talking but stopped just before I did due to what I heard through the crack of the door.

"...you can't believe that," Snape said spitefully.

"I have no reason to believe the contrary," Draco responded bitterly.

This was not the type of conversation that should occur when someone has just woken from a near death experience.

"You are both ridiculous!" exclaimed Snape. "You are both blind and refuse to see the truth!"

"What _are_ you talking about?" Draco insisted.

"You do realize that she has been sitting at your beside since you got here, right? I had to send her away just now to get food and a shower," Snape said.

"She hadn't eaten in a day and a half?" Draco asked incredulously.

"She's been worried sick about you. She's made sure you've gotten your potions at the right time, she's been trying to get water in you, she's not left that bloody chair since you arrived and wouldn't have left unless I made her!"

"You can't be implying what I think you are implying," Draco said strangely.

I didn't really want to hear what Snape had to say next, so I quietly knocked on the door and poked my head inside, pretending I hadn't heard a word.

"You're awake!" I addressed Draco. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he admitted.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?" I asked stepping closer awkwardly. Both men were tense from their previous interaction.

"I haven't decided yet," he said.

"I'll go let your parents know you are alright," I said after a moment of strange silence. "Your mother has been so concerned."

"No. Stay," Draco said, motioning to the wooden chair with the bundled up blanket. "Snape was just about to leave, and I'd rather not be fussed over by my mother or criticized by my father right now."

I came to sit in that familiar chair, wrapping myself in the blanket.

"Thank you," I said to Snape as he turned to leave. He nodded curtly before turning to Draco to say: "Keep in mind what we discussed."

"Of course," Draco nodded, "And thank you."  
With that Snape fled from the room.

I wanted to ask him what they had been discussing, but if I was completely honest with myself, I wasn't ready to know. I also didn't want to upset or aggravate an already weak young man. Draco held out his hand to me, and I took it readily, glad to feel his life concretely.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" I asked.

"There are such things as house elves, love," he sort of chuckled. "I can call one of them to wait on me hand and foot. Snape informed me you've been tending to me more patiently and dutifully than anyone ever could. You should go get some rest."

"Look who's talking," I teased. "Go back to sleep."

"I'll stay up for a bit longer," he insisted, leaning back into the pillows.

I sat with him in silence as he lay in bed, his breathing even.

"No interrogation?" Draco asked suddenly. "I half expected to be bombarded with questions."

I drooped a little in my seat, half laughing, half ashamed. When I looked at him again, he was no longer leaning into his pillows but sitting up and looking at me.

"You okay?" he asked, suddenly worried.

"Yeah, yeah," I assured him. "I just—you have—you have every reason to expect that of me. But half of me doesn't want to know, and all of me doesn't want to upset you. You need to get better before we fight again."

"Who said we're going to fight again?" he asked, leaning back and closing his eyes once more.

"Um, well, if past experience is any indication..."

He squeezed my hand and looked up at me for one last time, "I promise you I'll tell you what happened. I'll even tell you what Snape wants me to keep in mind from our discussion. Just not...right now."

"Of course not," I agreed. "Now get some sleep."

Draco settled into his bed. As I went to extract my hand from his so I could leave him to rest. He held on fast.

"Please stay," he requested.

I bent down and kissed his hand before settling back down.

"Of course, dear," I said, closing my eyes.

_AN: Review, please!_

_Also, on a more secular note: My prayers and thoughts are with all affected by the earthquake in Haiti. I pray that if you are reading this and you or your family/friends were affected, you are all safe, healthy and together once more. _


	29. Chapter 29: The Breakin

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—he, the other characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine!

_AN: I have been fiddling, editing, and re-editing this chapter for three or four days. I can't look at it anymore. I read through it once more to check for typos, but I'm sure I've missed something because I've just looked at it so much! Sorry ahead of time._

**XXIX. The Break-in**

Crack! Boom!

My eyes snapped open in surprise. I lay still, almost afraid to move. Was it just the storm? I rolled over slightly to look out the window. Rain was coming down in torrents, battering against the window onto the balcony such that it looked like someone was spraying the glass with a hose. There was a magnificent bolt of lightening that traced a jagged scar across the black sky, and then

BOOM!

The thunder rolled.

There was no crack, this time. Had a tree been hit? Or had magic been the cause of the sound that woke me up?

The roll of the thunder ended and I heard a vase shatter somewhere in the house. There was a scream of pain.

Magic. Definitely magic.

I flung the covers off my bed and dashed across the room. I grabbed my robe, heading towards the door as I stuffed my arm into the sleeves. The door swung open before I got there; it slammed against the back wall. I nearly jumped back in surprise. Lightning struck again. I flinched when the thunder hit instantly afterwards. My gaze was drawn to the glass door behind me, but I tore it back to the dark figure standing in the doorway. He took a step forward, and I reflexively took a step back, eyeing the wand in his right hand carefully.

"It's just me," came a familiar voice. "The house is under attack."

I heaved a sigh of relief. Snape. He'd been at the Manor this week since it was Easter break at Hogwarts, so his presence wasn't all-together confusing. However, to say the house was under attack indicated the Order was here. And to me, that meant it wouldn't be long until I saw my three best friends.

"I have your wand," he pulled the small stick from inside his robes. I took it gratefully from his outstretched arm. Suddenly we heard footsteps running down an adjacent hall. Both of our heads whipped to the door in expectation of another visitor.

When none came, Snape turned back to me, "Stay here till Draco comes for you. Hide."

"But—" I protested.

"But nothing. I don't want you accidentally hurt in the crossfire. Stay. Here." He gave me a significant look, one that I'd seen more than once when he'd suspected me of going against the rules while at school. His cloak swung out from behind him as he left, closing the door as he exited. I listened as his footsteps indicated his path down the hall away from the main stairwell.

"Oh sure," I muttered bitterly at the door, though I was completely alone. "Hand me a wand and tell me to hide here while all the action is going on elsewhere."

A scream pierced the silence. It sounded too familiar. Exactly like Tonks'.

"Fat chance," I said, yanking the door open and heading toward the entrance hall. When I got to the cross-section before the large stairwell, where the hallway to my room meets another hall running perpendicular, I skidded to a halt. Down this perpendicular hallway stood two young men—polar opposites—dueling fiercely. The skinny boy with untidy black hair sent a curse flying over the shoulder of the tall, toned blond. I swiftly and silently blocked the curse when it approached me, thanking Merlin Snape had given me my wand. Harry caught sight of me and was forcefully knocked over by a spell from Draco when he lost his concentration. Without a second thought, I rushed to his side, Draco attempted to grab me, and I felt the brush of his hand grasping at my arm as I flew past. I knelt at Harry's side, checking to make sure he was okay.

"Bells?" he said. I sent him a smile and helped him to sit up slowly. He grabbed me into a fierce hug, which I returned. It felt so good to have a hug from him again, to see him again. When I pulled back from the hug, he pressed a kiss into my hair.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'd like to ask you the same thing," he stated.

I helped him to his feet, pressing his wand back in his hand. From behind me, Draco grabbed my hand, yanking me back from Harry and training his wand on Harry's heart. Harry in turn, pointed his wand at Draco. Neither cast a spell, but they glared at each other intensely.

"Boys..." I said in an admonishing manner, knowing full well what might occur.

"Let her go, Malfoy," Harry stated strongly.

"You aren't getting out of here alive," Malfoy countered. His grip on my arm was getting tighter in his agitation.

"What makes you think that?" Harry asked smugly. "There are two of us and one of you." Draco looked confused for a moment. Harry gave a nod towards me. Draco looked at me and then back at Harry. The grip on my arm grew more and more painful.

"She's never loved you, Ferret boy," Harry taunted.

"Draco, you're hurting me," I whispered so only he could hear. His brow was furrowed in anger, but this small note from me made his fury melt for a moment. He released my arm, but in the moment of distraction, Harry took aim. Draco barely had the time to block the spell and sent another curse at Harry in retaliation. I blocked it myself, stepping between the two boys who were still training their wands on each other.

"Stop it!" I yelled.

"Bella, get out of the way," Harry said.

"Not until you put your wands down," I said more calmly.

"Arabella..." came Draco's warning voice.

I didn't move.

"Bells, it's time to come home," Harry said, his voice betraying the emotion he was hiding on his face. His wand lowered slightly.

"Arabella, don't do this," Draco said slowly. "Let me take him to your father." His wand was still raised, his knuckles white with a death grip on the small stick of wood.

"Shut it, Malfoy!" Harry snapped, raising his wand again, attempting to point it at Draco around me.

"Or what, Saint Potter?" Draco asked angrily.

"Stop it, both of you! We aren't in school anymore!" I raised my own wand. "Now lower your wands!" I pointed my wand from one boy to the other.

"Arabella, don't be foolish..."

"Bella, are you crazy?" Harry said as my wand was pointed at him, but I was eyeing Draco. "It's me, Harry! You're best friend." My wand moved to Draco, but my eyes were now trained on Harry. "Have they brainwashed you?"

Draco didn't say a word, but he finally lowered his wand, very slowly; his face betrayed nothing.

"Bells?" Harry asked softly, fear in his voice.

"Lower it, Harry," I said. He did so, looking defeated.

I turned to Draco. He looked at me, his eyes ice cold, his face emotionless. I still kept my wand moving from one boy to the other. I gave Draco a pointed look and help up a single finger. I willed him to read my mind. _Give me one minute. Just one minute._ He barely gave a nod. I lowered my wand at last, turning to face Harry. I walked towards him, throwing my arms around his neck. He enveloped me in a warm hug, I could feel his sigh of relief at my actions. I'd missed his hugs so much over this past year and just knowing he was there, seeing and smelling him brought back a million memories. Oh, how I missed the trio! And Gryffindor! And Hogwarts!

"I want to come home," I whispered into his ear.

"So come with me," he said.

"Harry, if I leave—"

"—We'll never let anything happen to you again," he interrupted.

"Father won't rest until I'm home," I continued, "He'll kill Draco for failing to keep me here. He'll kill innocents, Order members, Muggles, anyone until I come back. I'll be putting _everyone—_not just the Order members—at risk. I can't have those deaths on my conscience."

I looked into those familiar brilliant green eyes, and my heart broke. Harry was like the brother I never had. I so wanted to leave all of this—the Manor, my father, my past—behind me and live the life I wanted. He searched my face.

"Have you been brainwashed?" he asked seriously. Again.

"No," I laughed.

"This is what you _want_?"

"No," I said, honestly. I flung my arms around him. "I want more than anything to leave this place, Harry. But I can't live with the thought of Draco dying because I ran. I'm safe here; I'll be okay."

"Snape told us about your father torturing you—"

"—I'm fine!"

"And we heard about the engagement on the radio..." he trailed off.

I looked down at my feet, unable to meet his eyes.

"This isn't you, Bella! I know you and this isn't what you want _or _need."

I looked back at him seriously, tears poking at the back of my eyes.

"The right thing is rarely the easy thing," I said to him.

Harry nodded sadly, knowing exactly what I meant.

"But listen," I said quietly and hurriedly, looking back at Draco and down the hall. "I have information that may help, but I need you to pretend to be arguing with me."

He nodded with understanding.

"Nagini is definitely a Horcrux," I continued. "So is the diadem of Ravenclaw."

"What?" he raised his voice at me, faking anger.

"Ravenclaw's Diadem. It's a sort of tiara thingy. But I don't know where it is," I whispered. "I would bet at least one Horcrux is in the..."

"Lestrange vault," Harry said quietly at the same time I did. He continued to speak quietly but with an angry look on his face "We figured that and Nagini out. We are betting Hufflepuff's cup is there. But we didn't know about the diadem. Thanks. Any ideas?"

"No," I said, trying to ignore Draco's tapping foot demonstrating his impatience. "But I would check at Hogwarts for that one. You know he's stolen Dumbledore's wand?"

"Yes," Harry said loudly and with a sense of exasperation, but then he lowered his voice once more, very intensely: "Does he know about the Deathly Hallows?"

"Deathly Hallows?" I asked, "Never heard of them. He only ever mentioned the Wand of Destiny."

"Good."

"Harry, I'll hug you once more. But after our last words, I need you to push me to the floor as if you are disgusted with and call me a traitor."

He looked at me with sad eyes.

"If my father sees this interaction in anyone's mind, he needs to know that I chose Draco and to think that you hate me."

Understanding lit up his green eyes, "You are sneaky."

I embraced him once more, "I learned from the best," I smiled.

"I love you, Bella Rose," he whispered in my ear. And then I was suddenly pushed to the floor.

"You traitor!" Harry bellowed at me, his features distorted in anger. I was surprised at how good his acting was tonight. "How could you choose _him_ over _me_?" indicating Draco.

_Nice touch_, I thought to myself.

"I hate you!" and with a pop he was gone.

I saw a flash of green light fly over my head at the space where Harry had been standing. I let out a sob and tears started rolling down my cheeks, though I hardly noticed. I was still staring at the now empty hallway when I felt an arm around my shoulders. It was strange how I knew Harry was lying, but it hurt nonetheless. I vaguely heard Draco say something.

"Huh?" I said unintelligibly.

"I'm going to apparate us out of here, Bella," he said.

I just gave a single nod of understanding.

I felt the squeeze as the room dissolved into darkness. When we came to a stop, I was still sitting on the ground, though in a completely unfamiliar room. I let out an even more distinct sob. I let Draco pull me into his arms, and I cried into his shoulder. I quieted down rather quickly, glad that Draco hadn't attempted to say anything comforting.

I sniffed and wiped my eyes and nose on my sleeve, "Where are we?"

"One of the 'safe houses' your father set up for you should an event like this occur."

"The 'undisclosed location'?" I asked, quoting one of our previous conversations.

"Heh, yeah," he laughed slightly. "One of them."

"There's more than one?"

"Of course."

"And now?" I asked.

"I put you back to bed and await instructions from your father."

I looked up at him from his lap, feeling a little awkward and meek, "Draco, I don't think I can sleep right now." I really didn't even want to try.

He nodded slowly, helping me to my feet.

"Shall I give you the tour?" he asked cheerily, indicating the house we had apparated to.

"Please," I attempted to mirror his cheeriness. It didn't work.

The house was cozy and small in comparison with the Malfoy Manor, but still large compared to the Burrow. It was quite obviously a Muggle house, given the presence of light switches and electrical appliances. The kitchen was well sized, with granite counter tops and matching black appliances—coffee maker, stove, oven, microwave, toaster and dishwasher. The cupboards were a dark cherry wood, matching my wand color almost identically, and the tiled floor added a rose-colored warmth to the room.

Down the hall past the kitchen were two small bedrooms and a postage stamp-sized bathroom. Each room had its own adorable little theme, indicating they had once belonged to two very different children. The first had an accent wall painted a muddy green color with sponge-painted fall leaves in golds, reds and burnt oranges. The second was pink and purple with "Debbie" written across in sparkly silver letters. A slow smile spread across my face at the football trophies lined up on the desk and the ballet ribbons hanging from tacks on the wall. At the end of the hall, it opened up to a smaller den, off of which the master bedroom and bathroom were located.

The smaller den contained a leather couch and love seat, a TV, radio and CD player. A small kitchenette was located at the back. I hadn't watched TV since my days at the orphanage and the need for something mindless to distract me drew me towards it.

"I don't think your father would approve," came Draco's voice. My hand, half outstretched towards the remote control dropped to my side.

"I suppose not," I replied without turning to face him. After a moment's thought, I raised my wand, flicking it at the radio, effectively charming it to pick up on the magical radio stations. "But he can't argue with that," I finished, turning to look at the blond behind me.

"You aren't supposed to—" he began.

"—listen to music?" I cut him off. He opened his mouth to argue, but I continued, "If any news or such comes on, we'll change the station."

Draco looked uncomfortable for a moment, but closed his mouth and nodded. I took a seat on the leather couch as he took a seat uncomfortably close to me. A sappy romantic song by Celestina Warbeck came on, making me want to gag a little. I rolled my eyes. Draco chuckled slightly at my reaction before flicking his wand to a station playing The Weird Sisters. I took the blanket from the back of the couch, unfolding it and draping it over our laps. Over the next hour, we listened to music, flicking our wands to a new station when a jockey began talking or a song one of us particularly loathed began to play.

At some point, I drifted off to sleep and dreamt of Harry and the Order at Grimmauld Place. Fred and George were stealing enchanted snuffboxes to test for their joke shop, and when Mrs. Weasley appeared with sandwiches for a break from spraying doxies, Harry sent me a loaded look filled with exhaustion and exasperation. His mouth opened as if he were about to speak, but a voice much deeper resounded in my mind:

"She was not hurt?"

"No, my Lord. She blocked every spell and was only knocked to the floor in his anger."

"What happened?"

"I'm not precisely sure, but he said something before he left about her betrayal."

I was suddenly aware that where my skin was bare, I was stuck to the leather couch. I was laying down instead of sitting up, and Draco was no longer next to me.

"You have no clue as to how they got in or what Arabella said to him?"

"No, my Lord."

I opened my eyes and blinked. A few lights were on dimly, but other than that it was dark.

"We woke you," my father stated, almost apologetically, when he saw my eyes were open.

"I was having an odd dream," I stated, barely coherent.

My father seemingly glided from his location and came to sit on the couch next to where I was lying.

"Arabella, I need to know what happened tonight," said the Dark Lord bluntly, though his voice held neither anger nor hatred. I wondered to myself how long that would last.

"How did the Order members get into Malfoy Manor?" he asked me.

"I don't know," I answered.

"Arabella..."

"I'm telling the truth," I said defensively, "Why is it no one ever believes me?"

I received pointed looks from both beings in the room.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" I exclaimed, "I could've easily stunned Draco and gone with Harry. You can't say you have no reason to trust me!"

"So how did they get in?" Draco asked again.

"No idea," I sighed. "They've been here before, haven't they? Plus, are there any descriptions of Malfoy Manor in books?"

"Many," Draco drawled.

"Hermione's probably read them."

Draco shut his mouth quickly at that.

"And your conversation with Potter?"

"The one where he knocked me to the floor and called me a traitor?" I asked angrily.

"Ari, that is no way to address your father," Draco scolded.

I drew in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," I lied, because sorry was the last thing I felt. "I'm just rather upset."

"Over what exactly?" my father prodded.

"Well, it's not easy being accused of betrayal by your former best friend and then accused of lying by your father. Especially when I know what an amazing Legilimens you are."

"Who is to say you are not an equally good Occlumens?"

_Was that a compliment?_ I thought to myself, _Coming from Lord Voldemort?_

My countenance softened. Draco levitated a mug of tea from the kitchenette into my hands. I sent him a grateful look, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it off.

"I want to know precisely what happened in that corridor," the Dark Lord insisted after a moment's silence.

I heaved a sigh, preparing to launch into a long explanation of the night's events. Before I could get a word out, Draco spoke:

"Perhaps I should give you the memory of what I witnessed, my Lord, so you can see for yourself. Arabella can then fill in the gaps for both of us."

He pulled a glass vial from an inner pocket of his robes in a very Slughorn-like manner. He uncorked it and raised his wand to pull a silvery strand of memory from his right temple and place it in the vial. He corked it and handed it to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord stood immediately, taking the vial to the kitchen and conjuring a large basin to serve as a Pensieve. He poured the single memory in and bowed his head over it.

I waited on the couch, sitting up and wrapping myself in the blanket Draco had draped over me as I'd slept. I suddenly got very nervous. Draco was looking at me very intensely, and I suddenly wondered what all he had heard of my conversation with Harry. What if more was revealed in that memory than I thought? My father would be hearing exactly what Draco heard in a matter of minutes, and if that was more than I thought?—Well then, I was screwed.

I took a deep breath, the sound of the air escaping my lips seemed to break Draco out of whatever trance he'd been in. He shook his head slightly and then, seeing the fear etched on my face, came and sat down beside me on the couch.

"Drink," he urged, indicating the mug of tea in my hands.

I obediently brought the mug to my lips.

"All will be well," he assured me.

My father re-entered at that point, or I would've made some snide remark. Draco quickly stood and took a place by the fireplace to stand. My father sat beside me where Draco had just been.

"So, little one," my father began. "Why did you keep Draco from finishing Potter off?"

"He's my best friend."

"Even after he called you a traitor?"

"Well," I bowed my head over my mug, hiding my face so as not to give anything away, "He was..."

"You see what I've been telling you all along?" he asked theatrically. "What provoked such a response from your former best friend?"

"He wanted me to leave with him, to go back tot he Order," I began, "And I told him no."

"No?"

"I told him I wanted to stay here with you and Draco," I supplied. Well, half of that was true, right?

My father looked at me skeptically. I dropped my mental barrier. He nodded as he came to realize I was being truthful, or at least partly truthful. That was enough.

"Why the extended conversation?" he asked.

"I had to explain to him my reasons," I fabricated, "Which obviously weren't good enough for him."

"Did you discuss anything else?" my father asked.

"I just asked how the others were doing," that seemed plausible enough. "I haven't heard any news from them in ages."

"Why didn't you stay in your room as Snape instructed?"

"He handed me a wand and told me to stay put. I heard screaming, I knew there was action going on—how could I just ignore that?" I asked.

My father didn't answer. Draco seemed stiff from where he stood by the fireplace. The Dark Lord, after a long moment of uncomfortable silence, finally spoke:

"You should not have interfered in the battle, Arabella. You disobeyed a direct order from Snape. You aided in the escape of Harry Potter. You misused your wand to keep a curse from hitting him."

My face heated up. I didn't feel remorse, just irritation at my father's condescending tone and fear at the punishment I would receive.

"But you also kept Draco from getting hurt and refused to leave with the enemy when I fully expected the opposite from you. You may rest tonight," he said, turning to leave, "And receive your punishment tomorrow, like everyone else. You two will remain here for the next few days at least, while we secure the Manor and decide where to relocate."

With that he swept from the room, out the front door and apparated on the front stoop.

"Relocate?" I turned to Draco, who was now leaning with one arm resting on the mantle above the fireplace.

"You don't actually think we'll keep headquarters at the Manor after the Order was able to infiltrate?" his rhetorical question was highly condescending.

"Oh no, of course not," I said sarcastically.

"Must you be so cheeky?" he asked, pushing off the mantle and heading towards the kitchen.

I placed my mug down on the table in front of the couch and stood, following him.

"Why are you all of a sudden in a bad mood?" I asked him.

"Who said my bad mood was all of a sudden?"

"Why must you always answer a question with a question?"

"Why do you?" he countered.

"Is there a reason you are so defensive right now?" I challenged. He'd been fine just a moment ago!

"Why should you care?"

"Are we going to continue to ask question of each other without actually carrying on a conversation?"

"Are we going to continue to be as stubborn as a Slytherin and Gryffindor with a challenge between them?"

I stared at him.

He stared back, leaning over the counter.

"Probably," we said at the same time.

"Or," I said, turning to pace around the island in the middle of the kitchen towards him, "We could act like two adults and carry on a reasonable and honest conversation."

Draco snorted, "Yeah, right."

"You don't believe we can do it?" I asked.

"When have you ever been honest with me?" he asked.

"Oh don't start the question thing again!" I exclaimed.

Draco just crossed his arms with a huff.

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

"What did you and Potter talk about?" he asked.

I sighed.

"Because I know you lied to your father," he stated resolutely.

"_Muffliato_," I murmured, just to be sure no eavesdroppers could overhear.

"How did you know?"

"Your father may be a great wizard, a talented Legilimens, but he doesn't know you like I do. You can use your Occlumency to hide your lies, but your facial expressions give you away every time."

"Well," I began, "Harry tried to convince me to go with him. I told him no. We also discussed the possible identities and locations of various objects we believe to contain pieces of the Dark Lord's soul. Horcruxes."

"Horcruxes?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah," I responded a little irritated with his tone of voice. "You know, those little objects which house a piece of the owner's soul."

"I know what they are, Bella," he responded to my sarcasm by rolling his eyes, "but—"

I interrupted him before he could continue: "We believe there are at least six that the Dark Lord made. Three have already been destroyed."

"So you were helping them in their quest to destroy the Dark Lord?"

"I was trying. I don't think I actually helped that much," I said timidly.

"You are helping them kill your _father_?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," I said softly. I hated when he worded it that way.

"Why didn't you just leave with Potter, then?" his voice was raised to a slightly uncomfortable level. "Then you could really help him!"

"I couldn't," my voice was still soft. "Leave, that is."

"What reason could you possibly have to stay?"

I looked at him intently. He had thrown his hands up in the air. He was angry to be sure, but I didn't feel like I knew exactly why.

"You," I whispered, barely audible.

"What?" he demanded. He really hadn't heard what I said.

"You," I said, a bit louder.

"I don't understand," his voice returned to a normal volume.

"You are my reason to stay. If I left, Father would've killed you. You will still be punished, I might as well be there beside you as you are."

"Why do you care?" he asked bitterly.

"Draco, I couldn't live with myself if I knew I was the reason you were dead," I told him.

"Oh," his tone unchanged, "You couldn't live with yourself,huh? Do you realize what you have done? You've betrayed your father! You have aided the enemy in finding a way to defeat him."

"You know that I'm not on his side and never was, Draco. Why are you so surprised?"

"I can't believe you would be helping them while living right under his nose!"

I looked at him a moment, analyzing what he was saying.

"For as upset as you are, you haven't mentioned feeling like I betrayed _you_ or anything," I pointed out.

He opened his mouth to retort, but didn't.

"Draco, you don't really agree with it either, do you?" I asked.

"We are not having this discussion," he said seriously, turning away from me.

"Okay," I conceded. "But, if at any point you want out, I know where we can go to get help and a safe place to stay."

I turned to leave the kitchen. I knew Draco was still fuming and I really didn't want to continue to hang out with him. As I was just at the threshold of the entry into the den, I heard his voice.

"What?" I turned to ask.

"You can leave," he said bitterly. "I won't stop you."

I looked at him blankly.

"Run away to your precious Potter and your heroic Order," he said spitefully.

I just shook my head.

"Just leave!" he bellowed.

"No," I said.

He stepped toward me. His face was twisted with frustration and anger, and I would have been afraid of him if I didn't know that he wouldn't lay a hurtful hand on me.

"Why not?" he gritted through his teeth.

I mumbled my response, looking quite seriously at the tiled floor.

"What?" he nearly screamed.

"Because," I sighed before looking into his face and his stormy gray eyes. "I love you."

"You—" he yelled, and then suddenly his voice dropped, "Y—you—what?"

"Draco," I said, "I won't leave because I've realized: I love you."

Before I could blink, his facial expression had changed from one of rage to one of surprised contentment. And before I could take another breath, he had one hand around my waist and the other lifting my chin so my lips met his in a passionate kiss that said everything I had always been afraid to say aloud.

_AN: Well, that was a bit over-the-top in my opinion. But, I feel...she had to fess up at some point. Please review. I'm already working on the end! EEK!_


	30. Chapter 30: Flashback, 1st Year

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—he, the other characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine! Some of the text of this chapter is taken direction from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by JK Rowling pages 239-259

_AN: Because people are begging, I am updating earlier than I had anticipated. Please read and review! _

_ I just had to throw a first year flashback in there! I know it's weird, but there are reasons it's here, namely (1) I wanted to have a break between the epic realization Bella had and the next chapter and (2) there's a conversation that D and B have in the next chapter that is better understood/explained/believed with this._

**XXX. Flashback—First year **

We might have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if we hadn't been so worried about what we had to do. Sneaking around the castle around midnight to get rid of a dragon wasn't our idea of a great time. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and we were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because we'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of the way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "an' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded as though the teddy was having its head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed as we covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it as well. "Mommy will never forget you!"

How Harry and I managed to get the crate back up to the castle, I'll never know. Midnight ticked nearer as we heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another—even one of Harry's favorite shortcuts didn't make the work any easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

"Thank Merlin," I breathed back.

Then a sudden movement ahead of us made us almost drop the crate. Forgetting that we were already invisible, we shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how _dare_ you—"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming—he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on—I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until we'd stepped out into the cold night did we throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Harry did a bit of a jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Please don't," I advised, half out of knowledge of his singing ability, and half hyper-aware of how quiet the castle was.

We waited while Norbert thrashed about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed us the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. We helped to buckle Norbert safely into it and then we shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going...going..._gone_.

We slipped silently back down the spiral staircases, our hearts as light as our hands, now that Norbert was off. No more dragon—Malfoy in detention—what could spoil our happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As we stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we _are_ in trouble."

We'd left the invisibility cloak at the top of the tower.

Things couldn't have been worse.

Filch took us down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where we sat and waited without saying a word to each other. I was trembling uncontrollably. I couldn't see how we were going to get out of trouble this time. We were cornered. How could we have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for our being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and we might as well be packing our bags.

Just when I was convinced nothing could be worse, Professor McGonagall appeared, leading Neville and Hermione.

"Harry!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw us. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag—"

Harry shook his head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the four of us.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. _Explain yourselves._"

It was first time I'd not answered a direct question from a teacher. I stared at my slippers, as still as a statue.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too? And then Miss Granger went trailing after him to stop him?"

Harry looked at Neville, trying to tell him without words that the story about the dragon was true, because Neville looked stunned and hurt. I looked at Hermione apologetically, and she sort of shrugged without moving her shoulders. But poor Neville, what it must have cost him to try and find us in the dark, to warn us!

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I understand you were trying to stop Mr. Longbottom. But Miss Bella, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All four of you will receive detention—yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Granger, _nothing_ gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous—and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"_Fifty?" _Harry gasped, much to my dismay. Even if we lost the lead, the lead he won for us in the last Quidditch match, questioning McGonagall's authority would only make it worse.

"Fifty points _each," _said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor—please—"

"You _can't—_"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

Her words cut me deeply, as I imagined they cut the others, too. Hermione and I linked arms as we headed up the stairs, and she told me of her adventures from the evening. Two hundred points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, we'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the House Cup—save a miracle. How could we ever make up for this?

Hermione and I couldn't sleep that night, so we sat in the common room reading in silence. Based on how infrequently she turned the page, I bet Hermione was doing more thinking than reading, just like I was. Harry came down at one point, miserable and tired. He had listened to Neville sob himself to sleep for what seemed like hours. He couldn't think of anything to say to comfort him. He knew Neville, like all of us, was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what we'd done?

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly be two hundred points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and couple of other stupid first years.

It was the worst for him. Everywhere he went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him. I wanted so much to stand up for him, but what could I say? I was one of the aforementioned "stupid first years." Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as he walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one!"

We only had each other, then. Ron took our side, so it really boiled down to Harry, Hermione, Ron and me, since Neville felt so betrayed. It was perhaps the first time the four of us—who would become known as the Golden Quartet—bonded together and supported each other when no one else would.

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks," Ron tried to make us feel better. "Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost two hundred points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.

"Well—no," Ron admitted. I pushed my breakfast away and let my forehead hit the table with a sickening thud.

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but we all promised each other not to meddle in things that weren't our business from now on. Harry even told me he'd had it with sneaking around and spying. I didn't think that would stick, but I did believe him when he said he felt so ashamed he was resigning as Seeker. Fortunately, Wood wouldn't let him. But apparently even Quidditch had lost it's fun, seeing as none of the team members would talk to him and only referred to him as "the Seeker."

Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as a bad a time as Harry, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence, which almost worried me the most. Neville had received a Howler from his grandmother. I'd tried to talk to him about that night, but he wouldn't talk to me, Hermione or Harry. It seemed everyone but Ron was against us.

I was almost glad exams weren't far away. All the studying we had to do was keeping my mind off of the misery. We four—Harry, Hermione, Ron and I—kept to ourselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions (which was easy for me), learn charms and spells by heart (which Hermione already knew and had perfected), memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions (which no one _really_ cared about)...

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harry's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern him was put to an unexpected test. Harry had just left the library, leaving me reviewing my History of Magic notes and Hermione testing Ron on Astronomy when he unexpectedly returned.

"What's up?" I asked him when he stood before us, looking a little puzzled.

"I heard Quirrell whimpering from a classroom, something like 'No—no—not again, please—' and then it sounded like someone was threatening him. I moved closer and heard Quirrell sob, 'All right—all right—' Quirrell then came hurrying out of the classroom, straightening his turban. He looked kind of pale and like he was going to cry," Harry related the story to us.

"Did you see anyone else?" I asked.

"No, but I would bet twelve Philosopher's Stones that Snape had just left the room and will be walking with a new spring in his step—it's like Quirrell has given in at last."

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell—"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding us. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry could and before I could remind Harry of his new no-meddle policy.

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no _proof!_" said Harry. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor—who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.

"If we just do a bit of poking around—"

"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around."

He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons.

"I'm proud of you," I whispered over his shoulder at him, "for not meddling," I finished before returning to my own notes.

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, Neville and I at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

_Your detentions will take place at eleven o'clock tonight._

_ Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

And below was Professor McGonagall's signature. Based on the surprised look on Harry's face, I bet he'd forgotten all about detention in the furor over the points we'd lost. I half expected Hermione to start complaining that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word. I think we all felt we deserved what we got.

At eleven o'clock that night, we said good-bye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there—and so was Malfoy.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading us outside

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at us. "Oh yes...hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me...It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out...hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed...Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

We marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing, and I went to stand between him and Harry. I wondered what our punishment was going to be, especially since Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted if it weren't terrible.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing us into darkness. Ahead, we could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then we all heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

If we were going to be working with Hagrid, it wouldn't be so bad. Harry's relief showed explicitly on his face. Filch must've noticed because he said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy—it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quiet as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night—there's all sorts of things in there—werewolves, I heard."

Neville clutched my sleeve and made a choking noise.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward us out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said, "I bin waitin' here half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione, Bella?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done your bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and we Gryffindors were pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd – "

" – tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on!"

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze. Harry nudged me with his elbow, a small self-satisfied grin on his face. Hermione sent him a glare from his other side at this.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led us to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted my hair as we looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid.

I attempted to hide the giggle that flowed out of my mouth by coughing. Harry thumped me on the back to carry on the facade.

"So me, Harry, an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Bella with Fang'll go the other," Hagrid continued. "Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now—that's it—an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh—so, be careful—let's go."

Just as I turned to walk forward, Hagrid caught my arm, "Sorry, Bells, bu' I know you'll keep the fightin' with Malfoy ter a minimum. An' I don' trust 'im alone with poor Neville."

I gave him a small smile and a nod before following the boys into the forest.

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it we reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, Fang and I took the right.

We walked in silence for quite some time. Occasionally we would spot a small puddle of the shiny unicorn blood and one of us would point it out to the others. Every once and a while Neville would jump at the cracking of a twig, or he would stumble over a stump and nearly fall.

"What a buffoon," I heard Malfoy mutter under his breath from behind us. He'd been walking Fang while Neville and I took the lead. I sent him a scathing look as I helped Neville regain his balance.

After fifteen minutes or so, when nothing of any importance had happened, Neville suddenly jumped in fright and sent up red sparks in alarm.

"Neville, are you okay? What happened?" I asked since I'd been looking intently between the trees.

"What'd you do that for?" he rounded on Malfoy.

"What'd you send up sparks for?" Malfoy countered.

"Wait," I put my hands, "Malfoy, what did you do?"

"He grabbed me from behind!" Neville pointed his finger at the blond.

"Well, you didn't have to send up red sparks! Now the great oaf is going to come looking," Draco drawled.

"Don't call Hagrid an oaf," I reprimanded the Slytherin boy, "and it serves you right for sneaking up on someone in the Forbidden Forest. You've already got detention. Are you _asking_ for more?"

Neville looked triumphant.

"And you," I rounded on him, "shouldn't have panicked so quickly and sent up sparks."

His face fell.

Malfoy sent me a snide look, "You aren't a professor or a prefect, so don't act like you are older and wiser."

"Well, I'm sure acting like I'm older and wiser compared with your stupid antics," I replied back.

Just as Malfoy was about to argue, Hagrid came thundering into the clearing. Malfoy and Neville both broke into accusatory explanations of what happened, their voices raised and their fingers pointing at each other. I just stood with my arms crossed, waiting for Hagrid to bash their heads together. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"Yer both bein' foolish," Hagrid said. "Come on, I see I'm goin' ter have to split yeh up."

"Sorry Hagrid," I said as I fell into step next to him.

"Whateveh for?" he asked. "It ain't yer responsibility to keep ev'ryone else in line. Boys will be boys. I'm sure it woulda ben a lot worse if yeh hadn' a bin there."

Hagrid was still fuming when we arrived back at where he'd left Hermione and Harry.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you made. Right, we're changin' groups—Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Bella, Fang an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Harry, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin' you, an' we've gotta get this done."

So Harry set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy, Fang and me. We walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. We began to notice the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. We could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look—" he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. I'd never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

Harry took one step toward it when a slithering sound made us all freeze where we stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered...Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. We all stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted—so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at us—unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward us—I couldn't move for fear, and I doubted Harry could either.

Then, Harry began to stagger backward as if he couldn't see. His hand jumped straight to his forehead, where his scar was located. I figured whatever the cloaked figure was, it was making his scar hurt as its direction towards us seemed more and more towards Harry. I heard hooves behind us, galloping, and something jumped clean over our heads, charging at the figure.

Harry fell to his knees, still clutching his forehead. I knelt beside him, seeing as the figure had disappeared at the sight of the charging horse-like being—a centaur. It took a minute more for Harry to relax, and when he looked up the centaur was standing over us. He was young and had white-blond hair and a palomino body.

"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet. I got to mine on my own just fine.

"Yes—thank you—what _was_ that?" Harry asked.

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead. He looked once at me, up and down the full length of me, and then back at Harry.

"You are the Potter boy," he said. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time—especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way.

"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harry could clamber onto his back. After Harry was situated, Harry put out his hand to help lift me up and onto the great being.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Two other centaurs came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

"Firenze!" the first one thundered. "What are you doing? You have humans on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy. The quicker he leaves this forest, the better."

"What have you been telling him?" growled the first centaur again. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

The second centaur pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," he said in his gloomy voice.

The first centaur kicked his back legs in anger.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry had to grab his shoulders to stay on, and I was forced to grab Harry in turn.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

And Firenze whisked around; with Harry and I clutching on as best we could, we plunged off into the trees, leaving the two centaurs, who later I learned were named Ronan and Bane, behind us.

Harry didn't have a clue what was going on and neither did I. I listened as Harry conversed with Firenze.

"Why's Bane so angry?" he asked. "What was that thing you saved me from, anyway?"

Firneze slowed to a walk, warned Harry to keep his head bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. We made our way through the trees in silence for so long that I thought Firenze didn't want to talk to him anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of tress, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."

So Harry _had_ been paying attention in class!

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight as a shiver ran down my spine at the thought of what Firenze was implying.

"But who'd be that desperate?" Harry wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else—something that will bring you back to full strength and power—something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Philosopher's Stone! Of course—the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who—"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

The bottom of my stomach seemed to drop out as I heard once again what Hagrid had told us when Harry and I had first met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."

"Harry are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I whispered to the boy in front of me. He gave me a curt nod and returned to talking to Firenze.

"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was _Vol—"_

"Harry! Bella! Are you all right?"

Hermione was running toward us down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"We're fine," said Harry. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid lifted me gracefully from the centaur's back before hurrying to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harry slid of his back.

"Good luck, Harry Potter," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry and I shivering behind him.

_AN: ...but because it's short and not terribly exciting...I'm doing a double-update, so look for the next chapter later tonight; it is written, it just needs to be edited!_


	31. Chapter 31: The Battle Begins

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—he, the other characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine!

**XXXI. The Battle Begins**

As promised, we received our punishments the next day. Draco and I each apparated at separate times to Malfoy Manor, traveling by Floo back without seeing or speaking to each other until later that night. It was obvious to me that Father was still feeling guilty—if the Dark Lord was capable of feeling guilt—about his use of the Cruciatus Curse on me. He instead spent the better part of an hour torturing and even killing Muggles, wizards of Muggle decent and blood traitors. I was required to watch, and it was only until I sat with an expressionless face and without protesting that my father let me go. It appeared to me by the way Draco walked gingerly into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee the following morning that he had been subjected to the...traditional method of "punishment" used by my father.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, as he took a sip of his coffee.

He looked up at me as he placed his cup on the kitchen counter.

"Do you?"

I returned to scrambling some eggs for breakfast, ignoring his self-righteous chuckle.

We spent the week at the little house, which I'd gotten into the habit of labeling U.D.L for "**U**n**D**isclosed **L**ocation." It was nice to have my wand with me 24/7, though I was not going to ignore the presence of really nice Muggle appliances and the lack of house elves. The refrigerator and cupboards had been stocked after our first night there, so I was able to make food for us for the entire week. It was fun to have something to do other than read—cooking, laundry, and keeping the house clean kept me busy enough. Draco and I talked about everything from school to childhood to hopes for the future, successfully avoiding touchy subjects like the war and our fathers.

"Where did you learn to cook?" Draco asked me at the dinner table one night, stuffing his face with Shepherds' pie.

"The older girls at the orphanage were in charge of helping with laundry and meals," I explained.

"No wonder you struck everyone as 11 going on 30 when you got to Hogwarts," he pointed out.

I laughed, "Really?"

He nodded.

"I definitely wasn't, though," I took a gulp of milk from my glass, "I tried really hard to keep people from fighting, and failed. I had to learn I wasn't in control of everything, I wasn't in charge of everyone else. I was the youngest instead of the oldest for once, and I was suddenly going to be allowed to be a kid. I had a lot to learn, and it wasn't all magic."

The morning we were to leave, Draco received a note by owl with the location of the new headquarters. He apparated us there directly. It was a very large flat in central London, hidden among the Muggle apartments and shops. It was probably a perfect spot, because who would presume my father would surround himself with Muggles or hide among them? The honking of horns and the midnight sirens took a couple nights to get used to, but it was a pleasant change of scenery from the Manor. The Malfoys, Bellatrix and the few others that were at the Manor during the break-in were confined to the headquarters by the Dark Lord's orders, which meant I was confined as well. It wasn't long before I grew antsy and grumpy without a daily walk or much sunlight due to the gloomy weather and tall buildings.

The weeks dragged on slowly, in a monotonous manner. Draco was a comfort—most of the time. Since my small...confession, we'd been getting along better, which I chalked up to better communication. There were times we didn't see eye to eye, most often when the subject of Harry Potter arose, but we were learning about each other in a more deliberate way. My main worry was about what would happen when the final battle _did _occur. I was now divided. Under no circumstance would I do what my father required of me. I would do all I could to help Harry, Ron and Hermione in their endeavor to end my father for good. But I was pretty sure that Draco would remain loyal to my father, and if not at least _his_ father. And if I really loved Draco, how far would I go in helping Harry if it meant hurting him? It was in this contemplative state that Draco found me one morning about a week before our lives would change forever.

"A knut for your thoughts?" he asked, pulling me from my unpleasant reverie.

"Aren't my thoughts worth at least a sickle?" I teased.

"I'll give you a galleon if you just let me know what's on your mind," he replied sarcastically.

I gave him a meek smile as he sat down next to me on the couch.

"Just fretting," I said to him. "You know how good I am at that."

"Fretting over what?" he persisted.

I heaved a sigh. Communication. Communication. I kept chanting the word to myself in hopes it would help build enough courage in me to broach the subject with him.

"Draco, what happens when the final battle between the Dark Lord and Harry Potter occurs?" I asked.

His cheery countenance changed, and he ran his hands through his hair in an agitated manner.

"Because we both know I will do everything I can to help Harry," I said quietly.

Draco turned away from me.

"But I know that," I stopped to take a deep breath, "I know that I can't hurt or betray you."

"Then don't," he said a little forcefully.

"Hey, Draco, don't get angry with me," I said bitingly. "I'm talking to you about this so we can figure it out. Together. What more do you want from me?"

He looked at me, and then pulled me into an apologetic hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing my head.

I took his hand in mine, intertwining my fingers with his.

"I don't want to lose you, but when it comes down to it, I'll make the decision I think is right."

"And you believe Potter's way is right," he said to confirm.

"I do."

He looked at me intensely, and I could tell the wheels in his head were turning. I didn't know whether to try to help them along or to wait and see what conclusion he came to on his own.

"I'm tired," he began slowly, "so tired of this."

I opened my mouth to ask what, but decided against it and was glad because he had more to say.

"All I've been taught is that Muggles are bad, dirty, stupid creatures. But you were brought up by Muggles and turned out just fine. Granger got better marks than any Pureblood at school. And I can't believe that a world full of slavery, torture and death would be a happy or safe place to live in. For anyone."

I tried to quiet the triumph building in my stomach, aware that he could still make any decision he chose.

"But I feel unable to betray my family. And I know if the Dark Lord wins, we will be punished severely for helping Potter," he said.

"And what do _you_ want?" I asked him intently.

He looked away, thinking earnestly.

"A life. A career. A family. With you," he said.

"And when you see that life, career, family, do you see my father?" I asked almost in a whisper.

He paused.

"No."

He sighed and looked at me, "But I do see my parents."

I nodded. We fell silent for many minutes, both lost in our own thoughts. It seemed we were at a cross-roads. Draco wasn't sure what to do. I knew exactly what I wanted from him and from myself. But when it came time to make a quick decision, which one would _he_ make?

"I don't know that I'll come to a conclusion today," he said.

"And that's okay," I said quickly. "But know that when the time comes, I will go with Harry and fight for him."

"Your father will never let you near the battle," Draco countered.

"Really?" I asked, sure of myself. "Because I'm pretty sure he'd love to have me watch him torture and kill my friends. Most especially Harry Potter."

Draco tossed the idea back and forth for a moment. "Yes, I suppose you are right. Not to mention you'd be pretty good bait."

We fell silent once more. It was good to know he was no longer a Pureblood snob, and his loyalties were with his family, something I could understand a little at least. I knew the conversation was over for now, and more thinking would have to be done before a compromise could be made. I didn't know what I would do if Draco fought against us. Would I still be able to love him if he helped to try to defeat my side? Could love transcend sides of a war? I wasn't prepared to think about that just yet. I decided instead to wait to cross that bridge until I came to it.

"Exploding Snap?" I finally broke the silence.

An arrogant smirk spread across his lips slowly, "You're on."

It had been a long week, that was for sure. It was nice to spend the morning drinking tea and reading Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches, which was a hoot to read as a Witch (in my humble and _completely_ unbiased option). As the day dragged on, I sat in my room and listened to the hustle and bustle of the house as it grew busier and busier. I had a feeling of unease as I heard more and more voices joining the meeting room located directly across the hall from my bedroom. Ever since the second escape of Harry Potter from headquarters, Father had been keeping an uncomfortably close eye on me.

"Draco, go sit with Arabella, and close the door behind you. She need not hear this," I heard the Dark Lord's voice command. I quickly returned to my book so as not to be caught eavesdropping. Though, come to think of it, Draco probably wouldn't have cared. Draco stepped in silently, closing the door behind himself and taking a seat in a stiff wooden chair near an old rolling top desk that sat in the corner of the room. He didn't say anything in greeting to me, his face holding his old impassive facade. I could hear my father's voice rising in anger from the meeting room, a moment of silence and then a scream of rage. There was a terrible clatter as I heard people scrambling from the room. I stood suddenly in quick surprise, catching the flashing green light from the crack under the door. Draco gave me one swift look that forced me back into my seat. I listened further as the footsteps of the Death Eaters echoed down the halls as they clamored into other rooms. My father paced back and forth in the now empty room across from mine, the soft thuds of his shoes carried nicely across the hall. A moment more and he had left the room, heading down the hall calling for Nagini in Parseltongue. Without a second of hesitation, he was out the door alone, leaving his followers completely confused in the headquarters behind him.

"There was an incident at Gringotts," Draco finally said to me. His voice seemed foreign in the room where no words had been spoken nearly all day. "Someone broke into my Aunt Bella's vault."

"Any idea who?" I asked, already know the answer.

"Based on the Dark Lord's reaction," he commented, "Harry Potter."

I nodded, still staring at the page in the book on successful compliments.

"Care to fill me in?" Draco asked after a moment of silence.

I looked at him, not knowing what he meant.

"I know you know something about this," he said to me.

I gazed at the pages of my book, thinking for a moment.

"He found it," I whispered, finally.

"Found what?" Draco asked quietly.

"A Horcrux," I answered, my voice still lowered. "Father didn't realize until just now that Dumbledore and Harry knew about them and were destroying them one by one."

"No wonder he's pissed."

"Well, not much new there."

"This means the last battle is upon us."

I looked at him. His voice was low, so the emotion was hidden. His face held no indication of his feelings, only demonstrating a confident calm assertion of fact.

"Yes," I answered. "It is."

We fell into silence once more, both a little unsure as to what to do. I returned to my book, Draco just stared out the window. I felt like we were miles apart even though we were in the same room.

"Bells?" Draco broke the silence at last.

"Yeah?"

"If I should—" he broke off for a tense moment. "What do I need to say to Potter to make him trust me?"

I looked at him in surprise before a huge grin spread across my lips.

"You mean it? You'll help us?" I asked greedily.

He nodded, "I'm ready for the darkness to be over."

"Oh Draco!" I launched myself at him. He pulled me into an easy hug. "Thank you!"

"So any secret handshakes, passwords or code phrases I should know?" he asked. "Because no way he's going to trust me right off."

"No, probably not," I replied.

I thought for a moment. What could I have Draco say that would tell Harry it was okay without it looking like a trap?

"Tell him 'Do or do not. There is no try,'" I decided finally.

"That's from the letter," Draco pointed out.

"Yeah, it is," I said, astonished that he remembered. "And if he's smart he'll remember that too. If he does, he'll _hopefully_ test you by saying 'Why you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf herder.'"

"How pleasant," Draco said sarcastically.

"Well it's insulting enough to pass as just an insult to you. No one from either side will guess the real meaning. So you'll need to reply, 'Who's scruffy-looking?' And then he'll know you weren't just quoting the letter."

"What's all that from?" Draco asked.

"A Muggle movie about a war. In space," I replied, trying to keep it simple so as not to confuse him.

"Alright..."

"Just go with it," I said. "Draco, I'm so happy I could kiss you!"

He smirked arrogantly, "Well, why don't you?"

I contemplated the question for a moment. I really didn't have a reason not to, did I? So I did.

Later, after the sun had set, the door to the flat slammed open against the back wall, and a familiar set of footsteps made their way up the hallway.

"We've been called," Draco said, his right hand jumping to his left forearm.

I pursed my lips unconsciously in worry as he left the room. I set down my book to pace during the five minutes that passed as slowly as a month before my father entered the room.

"Arabella, come with me," he said, handing me my wand, which he'd confiscated after our arrival at the new headquarters. I followed him out the door of the apartment, where he grabbed hold of me tightly before jumping to fly through the air like a ghost of black smoke. It wasn't quite like flying a broom, and it was nothing like apparating. I could tell the air was cold as it whipped my hair backwards, but I didn't feel cold at all. In fact, I felt more like I was disintegrating into nothingness than like I was flying through the cool air on a spring evening, away from London and north toward Scotland.

When we at last came to a halt, we were in a familiar building with peeling wallpaper and broken wood beams. Instantly I felt a little like I was in Third Year again, awaiting the presence of a big black dog; the pang of guilt at realizing Sirius was dead hit me quickly, and I turned around to look at the room in order to dull the pain. Through one of the windows of the Shrieking Shack was Hogsmeade, lying quiet, save the Dementors and Death Eaters prowling the streets, obviously looking for someone in particular. Out the opposite window lay the grounds of Hogwarts, the beloved school I missed so much.

"Young mister Malfoy," my father's voice pulled me away and I looked to see a few, but not all, of his followers gathering in the room around him. "Take the young mister Crabbe and the young mister Goyle. Using the passage way under this tree, go to the castle. Find Potter and foil any...plans...he's made."

I looked at the three boys, slightly worried. Crabbe and Goyle weren't the brightest, and for Draco to be given such specific instructions worried me greatly. Would he change his mind from earlier?

Draco bowed to my father. As he glided past me towards the passageway below, he brushed a kiss across my lips. He must have noticed my concerned expression, because before he left he whispered, "For the record, I'm not scruffy-looking."

A small smile spread across my lips and lingered as I listened tot he three pairs of footsteps fade away.

"Something pleases you, little one?" my father pulled me from my thoughts. His voice was a little suspicious, and I imagined it was in response to my reaction to Draco's comment.

"I'm realizing a little more each day that you are right," I flattered him.

"Oh?" he looked taken aback, rightfully so.

"Yes," I continued. "Draco will make a good match for me, I see now."

I made sure that I didn't use the world "love" with him.

"And together we will be able to carry out your orders and carry on your legacy when you are gone," I finished.

A sickening smile spread across my father's lips, indicating to me that he believed Draco and me to be completely loyal and wrapped around his little finger. Just the way he wished us to be. And this was just the falsehood I needed him to believe. Especially tonight.

He approached me, putting one cold and spindly hand on my cheek, before leaning down to kiss me on the forehead. "I'm so glad to see you've come to respect and value my decisions and my ways."

I didn't have a response for that, and luckily I didn't need one because Severus Snape arrived.

"Severus?" my father looked taken aback at his presence.

"My Lord," he came to kneel before the Dark Lord in reference. "It took me a while to find you, forgive my late arrival"

"We have only just arrived, Severus," Lord Voldemort waved the comment away. "But why have you left your post as Headmaster?"

"Minerva McGonagall attacked me in response to a question about whether or not she had seen Potter. Other professors loyal to her arrived, and I was forced to flee. I believe Harry Potter is at Hogwarts, and they are preparing for battle."

"As I suspected," the Dark Lord said, "And the Carrows?"

"I have not seen or heard from them. I imagine McGonagall got to them and they are detained."

My father nodded solemnly before saying softly but clearly: "Prepare the Death Eaters."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus said, bowing out to gather more troops.

It was then that my father stepped forward to look out of the window of the Shrieking Shack at the school he had called home for seven years, just as I had. He pointed the Elder Wand to his throat, whispering, "_Sonorus_" before speaking aloud:

"I know that you are preparing to fight," his voice echoed across the grounds and reverberated menacingly in the room itself. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

He let his words hang in a sickening silence.

"Give me Harry Potter," he continued, "and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded.

"You have until midnight."

With another flick and a "_Quietus_" his voice silenced.

"And now we wait," he said to me, as if we were just awaiting a cab or a pizza. "You are dismissed," he said to the Death Eaters who remained. "But be prepared for a call around midnight."

The Death Eaters looked at each other as though they weren't quite sure what to do until then. But they obediently drifted from the room, some just coming to sit on the dirty couch in the room across the hall, others going out to stand outside the Shack on the Hogsmeade side. The Dark Lord conjured two chairs, one facing precisely outside the window to watch, the other placed flush against the other but slightly behind. He extended his arms with a flourish to make sure his robes would drape over the arms of the chair as he sat down, not removing his eyes from the Hogwarts' grounds. I sat in the chair next to him, my hands in my lap, my legs folding neatly under the chair, my wand tucked gently up my left sleeve.

"_Nagini, come," _he breathed in Parseltonge. The snake slithered nearer, smelling me suspiciously. That snake had never learned to like me. It was almost as if it knew I was constantly betraying my father in my heart. He encased her in a protective bubble using a charm I'd never seen used before. But then again, I thought to myself, he used magic I'd not seen all the time.

"_Stay close_," he instructed the snake. Nagini was relatively free to move about, bouncing in the bubble across the floor in what I thought was an amusing manner.

We had only a half-hour to wait until the midnight deadline, but it seemed after just five minutes an hour had past. Sitting and waiting in silence as your father awaits the arrival of your best friend so he can kill him is a little nerve-racking, not to mention uncomfortable and altogether unsettling. I looked at him in the silence of the late night. He sat quite calmly, the tips of his fingers touching while his elbows rested on the arms of the chair. There was no movement in the room once Nagini had settled down and the only sound I could hear was that of my own breathing.

"It is time," he finally broke the silence.

Midnight.

"Arabella, please gather those who have remained close by," he instructed me.

I rose from my seat and waved at the Death Eaters who had remained in the room across the hall. I then led them back into the room where Father remained, unchanged in his seat.

"Bella," he motioned Bellatrix Lestrange forth, "Your arm."

He pressed his skinny bone-like finger to the Dark Mark that discolored her otherwise pale and spotless arm. It was not long before the rest of his followers had gathered in the small room.

"It is time for the battle to begin," he stated austerely. "The battle that will end it all. Contingents M and R will go straight to the castle. Contingents H and S will take the field. Contingent E will go to Hogsmeade and A will remain here. If you capture Potter, bring him straight to me. I want him alive. Other than that, take out as many of his comrades as you can." And with that, all were dismissed.

I looked to my father for an indication at what to do, but apparently he had nothing for me. He returned to his previous position in his chair and gazed out the window as the first flashes of light indicating hexes and spells were being tossed back and forth. The Final Battle had begun.


	32. Chapter 32: The Battle Continues

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—he, the other characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine! Much of this chapter is taken from Rowling's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows pages 641-743 (U.S. Edition).

**XXXII. The Battle Continues**

We sat and we watched. I don't know for how long. Flashes of light, mostly red and green, could be seen bursting about the grounds and near the castle. The muffled sounds of assault on the castle were all I could hear as my father sat in deep thought, rolling his wand between his fingers. I tried not to think about what was being destroyed as the sounds of crumbling rock drifted across the grounds; I yearned to join the fighting ranks, to make sure I was there to help my friends and classmates as they fought for their lives. I tried to erase the images of suffering loved ones as I heard distant screams.

"My Lord," a voice interrupted my thoughts as Lucius Malfoy made his way from the shadows.

"Yes, Lucius?" my father responded, raising his hairless eyebrows.

"Aren't you afraid, my Lord, that Potter might die at another hand but yours?" asked Malfoy, his voice smooth. "Wouldn't it be...forgive me...more prudent to call off this battle, enter the castle, and seek him yourself?"

"Do not pretend, Lucius. You wish the battle to cease so that Draco will not be harmed. You give your son too little credit. He will carry out his duty successfully or die trying, as it should be. You should be proud of the service your Draco has done for me. And I do not need to seek Potter. Before the night is out, Potter will have come to find me."

The Dark Lord dropped his gaze once more at the wand in his fingers.

"Go and fetch Snape," he said, without looking up.

"Snape, my Lord?"

"Snape. Now. I need him. There is a—service—I require from him. Go."

I watched Lucius leave, then looked back at my father, who continued twirling his wand—the Elder Wand—between his fingers, staring at it. I felt my stomach twist into a large, uncomfortable knot. I didn't like the way he said "service."

"It is the only way," he whispered, looking at Nagini as if he'd forgotten I was in the room.

"What is the only way, Father?" I asked timidly.

"You will see, my little one," he said. "You will watch, and you will learn."

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably, but remained silent, turning away from the twirling of his wand and back to look at Hogwarts.

We sat there and waited. I watched in horror as the battle continued. Giant spiders, obviously descendants of Aragog, joined the fray fighting for my father's side. It wasn't long until the large thumping of familiar footsteps and two hairy legs indicated Grawp had arrived.

_Well, at least we have one giant on our side, _I thought to myself. I just hoped Hagrid didn't get all bent out of shape about the spiders. However, considering who it was, he most definitely would.

A chill came upon me as the dementors moved from Hogsmeade to the grounds of the castle. They seemed to float on air as they glided with their black cloaks trailing behind them. I shivered slightly, and my father looked down at me only momentarily. I looked carefully for a familiar Patronus—Harry's stag, Hermione's otter, Ron's terrier—but none materialized. I had just made out what I believed to be a hare, quite possibly Luna's, when I was distracted by the arrival of more giants. Giants who came swinging clubs the size of semi trucks.

The flame of the single lamp that added a dim light to the room flickered as Snape entered.

"My Lord," he came to bow before my father, "you called for me?"

"Ah, yes, Severus," my father twirled the wand still. "A report please."

"We have lost many, but not nearly as many as they have. I believe, my Lord, their resistance is crumbling—"

"—and it is doing so without your help," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice. "Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there...almost."

The knot in my stomach grew tighter. I'd not recalled a time when my father spoke this way to Snape, his most trusted advisor.

"Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please," Snape said. He shifted his feet and sent a look my way, but it didn't last long enough for me to know what he meant by it.

My father stood up. "I have a problem, Severus," he said softly.

"My Lord?" said Snape.

I looked wide-eyed at Snape, afraid that I knew what the problem was. Scared to death the knot in my stomach was there for a reason.

Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, holding it as delicately and precisely as a conductor's baton.

"Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"

"My—my Lord?" said Snape blankly. "I do not understand. You—you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."

"No," said Voldemort. "I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand...no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago."

I looked from my father back to Snape and back again.

"No difference," said Voldemort again.

Snape did not speak, and his face held no expression. His eyes were where he hid his emotion, and now they were searching for something to say as well for an understanding.

The Dark Lord began to circle the room, almost prowling.

"I have thought long and hard, Severus...Do you know why I have called you back from the battle?"

Snape looked up at the snake coiled in its enchanted cage, his eyes holding the signs of discomfort and apprehension.

"No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter."

"You sound like Lucius. Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was frightened by how well my father knew his enemy. He was right. Harry wouldn't be able to handle watching others die for him.

"But my Lord," Snape continued, "he might be killed accidentally by one other than yourself—"

"My instructions to my Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends—the more, the better—but do not kill him.

"But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable."

I began to grow uncomfortable. As much as it was possible for my father, being who he was, it sounded like he was breaking up with someone.

"My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But—let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can—"

"I have told you, no!" said my father, and his red eyes glimmered menacingly in the dim lamp light. "My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!"

"My Lord, there can be no question, surely—?"

" – but there _is_ a question, Severus. There is."

Voldemort halted, sliding the Elder Wand through his fingers, staring at Snape.

"Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?"

"I—I cannot answer that, my Lord."

"Can't you?"

Father was getting angry, and my breath hitched in my throat.

"My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

"I—I have no explanation, my Lord."

Snape was no longer looking at Voldemort. His eyes were fixed upon the coiling serpent in its protective sphere.

"I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape's face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

"My Lord—let me go to the boy—" he was obviously trying to distract his master.

"All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer."

Snape did not speak.

"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."

"My Lord—"

"Father—" I started out, but my voice barely worked, my mouth was so dry.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."

"My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand.

"Father, no!" my voice finally sounded. He silenced me with a wave of his wand.

"It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

As I stood from my chair in protest, my father swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: But then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue.

"_Kill_."

I screamed, but my father's outstretched arm held me back. Snape screamed, his face began losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor.

"I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.

He turned away as I stood motionless, my hands over my mouth, my knees wobbling. There was no sadness in my father, no remorse. I had lost the one man who had been my best mentor and most like a father to me over all these years. He had pushed me to be the best I could be when no one else seemed to care. He had been my one confidant while trapped in the Malfoy Manor for so long. And now he was gone, and I felt suddenly very alone and very vulnerable.

"It is time to leave, my Arabella," my father said quietly. He pointed his wand at the starry cage holding the snake, which drifted upward, off Snape, who fell sideways onto the floor, blood gushing from the wounds in his neck. I tried to step forward, to go to him, but Father held me fast and directed me from the room. The great serpent floated behind us, still tucked in her great protective sphere.

He led me out onto the Hogwarts ground, just outside the range of the Whomping Willow. There, he raised his wand to his throat once more to magnify his voice.

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery," he began. "Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately.

"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

He flicked his wand once more to turn off the Sonorous charm. He then led me to a small clearing within the Forbidden Forest, a familiar one, save the lack of billions of spiders and one massive acromantula named Aragog. There, he lit a fire in the middle of the clearing and we waited for the rest of the group to assemble. Already there were the Malfoys. As soon as Dolohov and Yaxley appeared, they were sent to wait at the edge of the forest for Harry to appear. Father stood silently, his hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He had the appearance of someone deep in prayer, but I knew better. He stood for the entire hour we waited. He was a patient being, considering what he was waiting for. But I imagined that since he'd waited this long, what was an hour more? I went to greet Narcissa. She looked exhausted and apprehensive. I gave her a hug and reassured her all would be fine with Draco. She gave me a half-hearted smile, but an appreciative one, nonetheless. Father soon beckoned me back to stand beside him. His daughter. His heir. His successor. It made me sick to think I was turning into his poster child. It made me sicker to understand I actually was his child, and I worried I'd actually become what I'd feared so long: a trusted follower of my father. I mean, I hadn't even attempted to stop the death of Snape. I hadn't gone to the castle to fight. I was standing here, safe and sound, practicing the exact opposite of what I'd preached for years.

I stood as still as I could beside my father, hoping the nervous fidgeting I was unable to repress was not terribly noticeable. I prayed that Harry didn't come. But if he did, I prayed he would live. I stood beside my father, but I prayed for Hermione, Ron, the Weasley family, Luna, the Gryffindors, my teachers, Hogwarts and Draco. The Death Eaters began to return and the giants took a seat on the outskirts of the clearing. I prayed for Muggles and for the battle to be over. I prayed for peace and an end to the darkness Draco and I were so sick of. I looked around at the Death Eaters around me, searching for Draco. The followers all stood around the fire, some masked, others with their cloaks off. I didn't see him. I began to panic a little; I looked at Narcissa, who sent me a pleading look back. He had not returned. He was either dead, or had taken the other side. And of course I wouldn't know until it was all over. I returned to prayer, praying for his safety. I continued on in the same fashion, praying my prayers were heard. I prayed so fiercely I didn't realize the hour had passed until Dolohov and Yaxley returned.

"No sign of him, my Lord," said Dolohov.

Voldemort's expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. Slowly he drew the Elder Wand between his fingers.

"My Lord—"

Bellatrix had spoken: She sat very close to the Dark Lord, disheveled, her face a little bloody, but otherwise unharmed.

Voldemort raised his hand to silence her, and she did not speak another word, but eyed him in worshipful fascination.

"I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. "I expected him to come."

Nobody spoke. I didn't know whether or not I was relieved that he hadn't come, but looking around at the other followers, I noticed they were just as scared as I was.

"I was, it seems...mistaken," said my father.

"You weren't."

My heart pumped so quickly I thought it would burst.

Harry stepped out into view, his voice was clear and loud. He did not hold a wand in his hand, and he looked at me for a moment, his face set with determination. The giants roared as the Death Eaters rose together, and there were many cries, gasps and even laughter. Voldemort had frozen where he stood, but his red eyes had found Harry, and he stared as Harry moved toward him, with nothing but the fire between them.

Then a voice yelled what I so wished I could yell myself: "HARRY! NO!"

Harry turned: Hagrid was bound and trussed, tied to a tree nearby. His massive body shook the branches overhead as he struggled, desperate. I had been so intent on standing still and so lost in my own thoughts, I hadn't even seen him brought in. I felt ashamed at the same time I felt glad. I wished I had seen him and gone to him, but that would have given away my true feelings about this war to my father, who still needed to believe I was on his side.

"NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT'RE YEH—?"

"QUIET!" shouted Rowle, and with a flick of his wand, Hagrid was silenced.

Bellatrix, who had leapt to her feet, was looking eagerly from Voldemort to Harry, her breast heaving. The only things that moved were the flames and the snake, coiling and uncoiling in the glittering cage behind Voldemort's head.

Harry dared a glimpse at Nagini, and I followed his gaze. I understood with that one glance that Nagini was the last Horcrux, the last chance to kill Voldemort, but she was still alive. Harry's gaze finally met mine, and he blinked slowly as if to say "I'm sorry." I knew he had come here to die. And I choked a sob down deep into my gut. Harry looked at Voldemort, Voldemort returned the gaze. Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and I was biting my tongue so as not to cry out, digging my fingertips into my palm so as not to run forward into Harry's arms.

Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry held the Dark Lord's gaze. I didn't take my eyes of Harry, and he didn't take his eyes off of my father. There was a murmur of the dreaded words and a flash of green light.

Harry spun in the air and came to the ground with a sickening thud, face down such that the hinge of his glasses were knocked sideways.

I felt the wet tears on my face before I realized I was crying. I tasted blood in my mouth only to realize I had bitten my tongue so hard I'd torn the flesh. At least I hadn't cried out. There were no cries of jubilee, no shouts of glee. Whispers, small footsteps and I tore my gaze from my best friend, lying dead on the ground, to the Death Eaters all around. Narcissa came to me, wrapping one arm around me.

"Stay strong," she whispered in my ear, and I realized she was trying to keep me playing my part. Had Draco talked with her about our last conversation?

I looked to my side to see my father, lying on the ground. I had no recollection of how he had gotten there, but I turned to him, and knelt by his side, like the dutiful daughter I had become.

"Father?" I asked. His red eyes gleamed, but he'd obviously been knocked down pretty hard. He blinked a few more times, but grasped the hand I held out for him. His cold skin sent a shiver through me that I forced myself to repress. I should be by Harry's side. Not Voldemort's.

"My Lord..._my Lord_..." Bellatrix said, as if to a lover. "_My Lord_..."

"That will do," said Voldemort's voice.

He squeezed my hand to indicate I should let go. He got to his feet as we all backed away to give him room. Various Death Eaters hurried away from him, returning to the crowd lining the clearing. Bellatrix alone remained behind, kneeling beside Voldemort. Narcissa dragged me backwards a little, to stand by her.

"My Lord, let me—" Bellatrix said again.

"I do not require assistance," said my father coldly. Bellatrix withdrew her helpful hand. "The boy...Is he dead?"

No one moved. No one spoke.

"Narcissa," Voldemort said. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

I felt a squeeze on my shoulder as Narcissa left my side and went to kneel beside my friend. She touched Harry's face, in almost a motherly way. She pulled back an eyelid, crept beneath his shirt, and felt where his heart should be beating. She stayed there for a moment, and I noticed how close her mouth was to Harry's ear. Soon enough she pulled back.

"He is dead!" Narcissa called out into the clearing.

Now they shouted, yelled in triumph, stamped their feet, sending bursts of red and silver light into the air in celebration.

"You see?" screeched Voldemort over the tumult. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! _Crucio!_"

Narcissa was back by my side now, and I nearly collapsed with the weight of Harry's death crashing over me. She held me up as tears streamed down my face. I didn't know how to hold back the sobs that wanted to break through. I wanted to run forward, to stop the sullying of his body.

"You have to stand up. Keep playing your part, Arabella," she whispered into my ear as the crowed laughed and roared at the limp body being thrown into the air, his glasses flying off and out onto the grounds. "He's alive, my darling."

She swept the hair out of my face as I straightened up in response.

"Both Harry and Draco are alive. He confirmed it for me. And I lied. So play your part well, my love, and all may end up well."

I looked at her, and she smiled as she put one hand on either side of my face. I searched her face for falsehoods—for how could Harry remain so limp being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse?—but her eyes gleamed with honesty and the relief only a mother could feel for the confirmation of a living son.

My tears dried, and she nodded her head, turning me to face the clearing so we could continue with our acting.

"Now," said Voldemort, "we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No—Wait—"

Voldemort untied Hagrid with a flick of his wand. Hagrid came to stand behind Harry. There was a fresh round of laughing from the Death Eaters.

"You carry him," Voldemort said. "He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your friend, Hagrid. And the glasses—put on the glasses—he must be recognizable—"

Dolohov slammed the glasses back on Harry's face, but Hagrid lifted him into the air gently and lovingly. Hagrid's sobs were enormous and wet tears splashed down upon Harry, cradled in Hagrid's arms. Harry still did not move. And Hagrid sent a pitiful glance up at me, which I pointedly ignored for show. I was glad Hagrid had been silenced, because I knew I would not be able to face his angry words admonishing my behavior.

"Move," said Voldemort, and Hagrid stumbled forward, forcing his way through the close-growing trees, back through the forest.

"Arabella, walk beside me," my Father directed, and I came to stand at his side, my face now betraying no sign of tears, my shoulders and back straight as if I were proud of this disgusting parade. We walked through the dark forest, following Hagrid. The Death Eaters crowed all around us and Hagrid sobbed blindly. I wondered how nobody noticed Harry was alive, and even began to doubt Narcissa's assessment; maybe he was dead after all. No, I had to let myself hope, or else I would give up and all would be lost.

The two giants crashed along beside the procession, trees creaked and fell as they passed; they made so much din that the birds rose, shrieking into the sky, and even the jeers of the Death Eaters were drowned. The victorious procession marched on toward the open ground, and a dim light indicated the trees were beginning to thin.

"BANE!"

Obviously the silencing curse had worn off, for Hagrid's unexpected bellow nearly made me jump.

"Happy now, are yeh, that yeh didn't fight, yeh cowardly bunch o' nags? Are yeh happy Harry Potter's—d-dead...?"

Hagrid broke down in fresh tears. The centaurs watched as the procession passed and some of the Death Eaters called insults at them as we left them behind. Finally, we reached the edge of the forest.

"Stop."

Father stepped forward, brushing past Hagrid to stand in front.

"Harry Potter is dead," he spoke, his voice magically magnified. "He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.

"The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

There was silence in the grounds and from the castle, and I wondered how I would face my friends as they came out onto the grounds.

"Come," said Voldemort, his voice now reduced. Hagrid followed, obviously under a spell of my father's. My father beckoned me forward, and by his side we led Hagrid out onto the grounds. Nagini was draped around his shoulders now, no longer trapped in her bubble cage, and I looked carefully at her position on his shoulders, trying to assess how likely I could get away with killing her myself. Maybe if I killed her, someone could kill the Dark Lord.

"Harry," sobbed Hagrid. "Oh, Harry...Harry..."

We approached the castle, and very little noise could be heard, save the gleeful voices of the Death Eaters and their tramping footsteps.

"Stop."

The Death Eaters came to a halt. They spread out in a line facing the open front doors of the school. A reddish glow streamed from the entrance hall. We waited.

"NO!"

The scream was more terrible than I had ever expected coming from Professor McGonagall. Bellatrix laughed, rejoicing in McGonagall's despair. The open doorway filled with people as the survivors of the battle came out onto the front steps to face their vanquishers and see the truth of Harry's death for themselves. I stood a little in front of Harry, next to my father, uncomfortably warm as eyes bored down upon me from above with full-fledged hatred. Father stood there, proud, stroking Nagini's head with a single white finger.

"No!"

"_No!"_

"Harry! HARRY!"

Ron's, Hermione's, and Ginny's voices were worse than McGonagall's, their voices acted like a trigger; the crowd of survivors took up the cause, screaming and yelling abuse at the Death Eaters, at me, until—

"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

Harry was lowered onto the grass. I repressed the strong urge to go to him, confirm he was alive for myself, to give him a hug, to tell him how much I loved him, the only boy who had ever been like a real brother to me.

"You see?" said Voldemort, and he began to stride backward and forward right beside where Harry lay. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more. My sarcastic side, despite the depressing scene before me, realized vividly that Voldemort could never have been a professor at a school.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort, and there was relish in his voice for the lie.

If I could have possibly hated my father more at that moment, I would have. But all my hate was spent, and I realize there was no point of it. I despised the lie, but instead of getting angry, I decided to get even.

"...killed while trying to save himself—"

I eyed my father, as if with adoration, but once again evaluated how best to go about killing Nagini.

Suddenly Neville broke from the crowd, charging Voldemort. There was another bang, a flash of light and a grunt of pain as he hit the ground hard, disarmed. Voldemort threw Neville's wand aside and laughed. Neville had been so brave and so determined, but stupid. I looked at my father's gleeful face as he approached Neville and got to thinking. Maybe Neville had provided just the diversion we needed.

"And who is this?" Father said in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh.

"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who gave the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man's-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled into fists.

"So what if I am?" said Neville loudly, his eyes darting to me once and then back again.

I could not have been more proud of that silly, awkward boy who had turned into a brave, capable young man before me.

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over," said Neville. "Dumbledore's Army!" he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort's Silencing Charm seemed unable to hold.

I'm sure my face beamed with pride.

"Very well," said Voldemort, his voice dangerously silky. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head," he said quietly, "be it."

Father raised his wand with a wave, and I moved a few steps forward, barely stopping myself from stepping between him and Neville as I'd done years ago for him in the Department of Mysteries. Seconds later, out of one of the castle's shattered windows, something that looked like a misshapen bird flew through the half light and landed in Voldemort's hand. He shook the mildewed object by its pointed end and it dangled, empty and ragged: the Sorting Hat.

"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," said Voldemort. "There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

He pointed his wand at Neville, who grew rigid and still, then forced the hat onto Neville's head, so that it slipped down below his eyes. There were movements from the watching crowd in front of the castle, and as one, the Death Eaters raised their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.

Screams split the dawn, mine included as I rushed forward to Neville, who was aflame, rooted to the spot, unable to move.

Several things happened at once. I moved forward toward Neville, while the sound of war cries and movement of people swarming over the out-of-sight walls, pelting toward the castle resounded through the air. I barely registered that we had backup, I was so intent on what I was doing. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, "HAGGER!" His cry answered the roars of Voldemort's giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants, making the earth quake. The hooves and twangs of bows sounded, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting with surprise. Father had turned with surprise to see the oncoming centaurs as I rushed to put out the fire for Neville, still caught in the binding curse. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry move, pull the Invisibility Cloak around himself and disappear. I almost stopped to smile at him, but turned back to Neville, ripping the flaming Sorting Hat off his head and releasing the binding curse. As I did so, a glittering, rubied hilt fell into my hands: the Sword of Gryffindor. I felt its weight in my hand, gripped it firmly and let the hat drop to the ground. I turned around, planting my feet firmly in the ground. At the same time, my father turned, with Nagini perched on his shoulder. In one swift, fluid motion, a single stroke, I sliced off Nagini's head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and my father's mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear over the din, and the snake's body thudded to the ground at his feet—

A Shield Charm magically appeared between my father and I; I knew right away Harry was watching my back from under his cloak. I felt someone grab my hand and pull me away from the Death Eater side, deep into the crowd of Hogwarts' defenders.

"HARRY!" Hagrid shouted, his voice somehow above the din. "HARRY—WHERE'S HARRY?"  
Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was fleeing the giants' stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where; great winged creatures soaring around the heads of Voldemort's giants, thestrals and Buckbeak the hippogriff scratching at their eyes while Grawp punched and pummeled them; and now the wizards, defenders of Hogwarts and Death Eaters alike, were being forced back into the castle. I stumbled backwards, pulling my wand from my sleeve and sending hexes at any Death Eater who came into my path as the hand around my wrist continued to pull me backwards.

We made it into the Great Hall, where many had already retreated. The fighting continued in the hall and I at last turned to see who had grabbed my hand. Draco. I flung myself into his arms.

"You're okay!"

"Of course, love," he responded, pressing a kiss into my hair. "Did you expect any less?"

I didn't respond, but just let out a half-sob, half-laugh.

I pulled away when I heard the familiar voice of my father. He crossed the room, firing spells from his wand as he backed into the Great Hall, still screaming instructions to his followers as he sent curses flying left and right. More Shield Charms "magically" appeared in front of Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbott, saving them from the Dark Lord's wrath and I knew Harry was with us too.

Draco and I joined the fray as more and more people stormed up the front steps. Charlie Weasley overtook Horace Slughorn, who was still wearing his emerald pajamas. They seemed to have returned at the head of what looked like the families and friends of every Hogwarts student who had remained to fight, along with the shopkeepers and homeowners of Hogsmeade. The centaurs Bane, Ronan and Magorian burst into the hall with a great clatter of hooves, as the door that led to the kitchens was blasted off its hinges.

The house-elves of Hogwarts swarmed into the entrance hall, screaming and waving knives and cleavers, and at their head, the locket of Regulus Black bouncing on his chest, was Kreacher, his bullfrog's voice audible even above this din: "Fight! Fight! Fight for my Master, defender of house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!"

"Oh, I _have _to hear this one," I muttered with thick sarcasm, referring to how Kreacher had suddenly taken the side against the Dark Lord.

"You have _no_ idea," came a familiar voice. I turned to see Ron smiling at me. I launched myself at him, and he wrapped his arms around me, picking me up and swinging me around.

"I missed you!"

"We missed _you,_ Bells!"

"Uh, a little help here?" came a panicked voice. Ron put me down and we both turned to help Hermione fight a few Death Eaters off.

"'Mione!" I cried joyously, as joyously as I could be during battle.

"Bella!" she responded.

"I missed you!" we said at the same time and then giggled, sending hexes at the Death Eaters.

"He's alive!" I yelled over the din.

"Obviously!" she cried back in between hexes, "Since his body suddenly disappeared and a Shield Charm materialized unexpectedly between you and your father."

"Like magic!" I said jokingly.

"Ha! Very funny."

"You know you missed me!"

"More than anything," she said seriously, embracing me quickly.

I looked once more toward the center of the room, where my father appeared. He was striking and smiting all within reach. The Great Hall was becoming more and more crowded as everyone who could walk forced their way inside, ready to join the fight.

Out of nowhere, I was suddenly grabbed from behind by two large, hairy arms with terribly dirty fingernails.

"Hello, my precious," a gruff, sickening voice whispered in my ear as I was lifted into the air and dragged away from my friends.

"Greyback!" I saw Draco shout out. "Let her go!"

"Who are you to speak? Traitor! She's mine now!"

"What would your master say?"

"He wouldn't want a traitor as a daughter."

"If you hurt her, the Dark Lord will punish you beyond all belief."

"I'll have my way with her before I worry about that," he said. He braced me with one arm flush against him, and used the other arm to brush my hair back from my face. My stomach lurched, and I knew I was going to be sick. I felt Greyback lean back as if someone had jumped on him from behind and I was suddenly released as he cried out in pain. I scrambled away from the great werewolf and turned to see Ron and Neville bring the large Death Eater down.

Greyback was on his knees, swaying as if he were about to fall. I strode up confidently, pulled my right arm back and punched him as hard as I could. His head flew back and blood spurted from his nose as it broke with a large crack.

"That," I said, "is for Remus Lupin."

I kneed him in the stomach and he doubled over in pain.

"And that is for every woman you've ever taken advantage of."

I pulled my wand out and sent him flying backwards and through one of the windows.

"And that was for me!" I yelled after him.

I turned back to the three boys—Neville, Ron and Draco—who were all gaping at me, their mouths open in amazement.

"Thanks guys," I sighed.

"That was incredible," Neville breathed.

A flash of light behind me brought the boys back to the real world. I turned to see my father dueling McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once, cold hatred in his face as they wove and ducked around him, unable to finish him—

Bellatrix was still fighting too, fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master she dueled three at once: Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them, I wondered to myself for a microsecond how Hermione had gotten all the way across the hall without me noticing, but I didn't have a chance to wonder for much longer as I saw a killing curse just barely miss Ginny.

Out of nowhere came Mrs. Weasley, throwing her cloak off as she ran, freeing her arms:

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

I tried not to laugh, but hearing Mrs. Weasley talk like that was the most unexpected thing I'd ever heard, and it was so preposterous a smile broke across my face. It quickly faded when Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of her new challenger.

"OUT OF MY WAY!" shouted Mrs. Weasley to the three girls, and with a swipe of her wand she began to duel. The boys and I backed against the wall of the Great Hall, watching the two battles raging: the one between Molly Weasley and Bellatrix, the other between Voldemort and the three talented wizards.

"No!" Mrs. Weasley cried as a few students ran forward, trying to come to her aid. "Get back! _Get back!_ She is mine!"

I wondered suddenly where Harry was, standing most likely in the middle of it all in his Invisibility Cloak, trying to figure out which battle to aid in. My thoughts were once again pulled away and back to Bellatrix as she snarled at Mrs. Weasley:

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" taunted Bellatrix, as mad as her master, capering as Molly's curses danced around her. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

I whirled on Ron, "Fred?"

He nodded his head solemnly.

"No! Oh Ron!" I embraced him, tears running down my face.

"We can mourn later, Bella," he reminded me, and we turned to face the battles again.

"You—will—never—touch—our—children—again!" screamed Mrs. Weasley.

Bellatrix laughed, a strangely familiar laugh full of exhilaration.

Molly's curse soared beneath Bellatrix's outstretched arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart.

Bellatrix's gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge. For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slguhorn were suddenly blasted backward, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort's fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb. Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley.

"_Protego!_" roared a familiar, but altogether invisible voice, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak at last.

The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of "Harry!" "HE'S ALIVE!" were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other.

"I don't want anyone else to try to help," Harry said loudly, and in the total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."

Voldemort hissed.

"Potter doesn't mean that," he said, his red eyes wide. "That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"

"Nobody," said Harry simply. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good..."

I reached for Draco's hand as he stood beside me. He grabbed mine and squeezed, but I dared not break my gaze from the duelers before me.

"One of us?" jeered my father, and his whole body was taut and his red eyes stared, a snake that was about to strike. "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"

"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?" asked Harry.

They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other. As he turned, my father caught sight of me, standing between Draco and Neville. He hissed, but returned his concentration to the matter at hand.

"Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?" Harry asked.

"_Accidents!_" screamed Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and the watching crowd was frozen as if Petrified, and of the hundreds of other onlookers in the Hall, nobody seemed to breathe but they two. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!"

"You won't be killing anyone else tonight," said Harry as they circled, and stared into each other's eyes, green into red. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people—"

"But you did not!"

"—I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn form your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"

"_You dare—"_

"Yes, I dare," said Harry, and I felt like I could burst with pride for the stand he was taking against my father. "I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"

Voldemort did not speak, but prowled in a circle, held back by the faintest possibility that Harry might indeed know a final secret...

"Is it love again?" said Voldemort, his snake's face jeering. "Dumbledore's favorite solution, _love,_ which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? _Love_, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter—and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you dying now when I strike?"

"Just one thing," said Harry, and still they circled each other.

"If it is not love that will save you this time," said Voldemort, "you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?"

"I believe both," said Harry, and shock flitted across the snakelike face of my father, though it was instantly dispelled; Voldemort began to laugh, and the sound was more frightening than his screams; humorless and insane, it echoed around the silent Hall.

"You think _you_ know more magic than I do?" he said. "Than _I_, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"

"Oh, he dreamed of it," said Harry, "but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you've done."

"You mean he was weak!" screamed Voldemort. "Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"

"No, he was cleverer than you," said Harry, "a better wizard, a better man."

"I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!"

"You thought you did," said Harry, "but you were wrong."

The rest of the crowd stirred as the hundreds of people around the walls drew a breath as one. I looked to Ron, who shrugged his shoulders, confused.

"How did he find out?" I whispered to myself after I'd turned back to look at the dueling pair.

"Find out about what?" Draco murmured back.

I indicated he should just keep listening not wanting to miss the big reveal of my father's great misplaced trust. I was the only one alive who knew Snape's real mission, so far as I knew.

"_Dumbledore is dead_!" Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as though they would cause him unendurable pain. "His body decays in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle, I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"

"Yes, Dumbledore's dead," said Harry calmly, "but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."

"What childish dream is this?" said Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and his red eyes did not waver from Harry's.

"Severus Snape wasn't yours," said Harry. "Snape was Dumbledore's. Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"

Voldemort did not answer. They continued to circle each other like wolves about to tear each other apart.

"Snape's Patronus was a doe," said Harry, "the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized," he said as he saw Voldemort's nostrils flare, "he asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"

"He desire her, that was all," sneered Voldemort, "but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him—"

"Of course he told you that," said Harry, "but he was Dumbledore's spy from the moment you threatened her, and he's been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!"

"It matters not!" shrieked Voldemort, who had followed every word with rapt attention, but now let out a cackle of mad laughter. "It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore's, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape's supposed great _love!_ Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways that you do not understand!

"Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy—I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up. I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"

"Is Snape really dead?" Draco whispered into my ear.

I just gave a silent nod. I heard the sharp intake of breath from Draco, as if he'd been stabbed. Fresh tears pricked at my eyes and I knew Draco was probably mourning too, but he put his arms around me from behind and I didn't feel so alone.

"Yeah, it did," said Harry, continuing on the line of conversation, "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done...Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle..."

"What is this?"

Of all the things that Harry had said to him, beyond any revelation or taunt, nothing had shocked Voldemort like this. His pupils contracted to thin slits, the skin around his eyes whitened.

"It's your one last chance," said Harry, "it's all you've got left...I've seen what you'll be otherwise...Be a man...try...Try for some remorse..."

"You dare—?" said Voldemort again.

"Yes, I dare," said Harry, "because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all. It's backfired on you, Riddle."

Voldemort's hand was trembling on the Elder Wand, and Harry gripped Draco's very tightly. The moment, he knew, was seconds away.

"How'd he get your wand?" I asked Draco.

"I'll explain later," he grumbled indignantly.

I smiled at his tone of voice, but it quickly faded as I turned back to the scene before me. The moment was just seconds away, I could feel it.

"The wand still isn't working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore."

"He killed—"

"Aren't you listening? _Snape never beat Dumbledore!_ Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"

"But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!" Voldemort's voice shook with malicious pleasure. "I stole the wand from its last master's tomb! I removed it against its last master's wishes! It's power is mine!"

"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? _The wand chooses the wizard_...The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance..."

Voldemort's chest rose and fell rapidly.

"The true master of the Elder Wand wand was Draco Malfoy."

I felt the arms pull back away from me.

"_What_?"

"Sh!"

Blank shock showed in Voldemort's face for a moment, but then it was gone.

"But what does it matter?" he said softly. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone...and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy..."

"But you're too late," said Harry. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco. I took his wand from him."

Harry twitched the hawthorn wand in his hands, as all eyes turned on him.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does...I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort's was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high voice shriek as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing Draco's wand:

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_ "Expelliarmus!"_

_AN: Sorry it took me so long to update! I hope you enjoy. Please review. I love your reviews! I might try to post again later in the week...!_


	33. Chapter 33: The Battle Ends

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—he, the other characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine! Much of this chapter is taken from Rowling's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows pages 672-679; 743-749 (U.S. Edition).

**XXXIII. The Battle Ends**

The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead center of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Voldemort's green jet meet Harry's spell, the Elder Wand flew high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last. And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy's shell.

One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended; and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him. Hermione and Ron were the first to reach him, and I felt it was only right that it was they who hugged him first. I backed up as everyone shouted incomprehensibly. I tried to flatten myself against the wall near one of the large windows, and I stood there and just watched. Ginny, Neville, and Luna were there next, and then all the Weasleys and Hagrid, and Kingsley and McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout. Everyone gathered around, trying to hug him, hundreds more pressed in, all of them determined to touch the Boy Who Lived, the reason it was over at last—

"I'd of thought you'd be running for him too," a voice said from beside me.

I looked up into a familiar set of gray eyes—eyes I'd never imagined would be present at this gathering as I'd imagined it for years. Draco Malfoy, at the celebration of the death of Lord Voldemort? Preposterous!

"You should go find your parents," I avoided his comment, "your mother was worried sick when you didn't return to the Forest with the others."

He crossed his arms and leaned one arm against the wall, angling himself toward me. The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed to life and light. There was a mingled feeling of jubilation and mourning, of grief and sadness, and I didn't feel emotionally prepared for any of it. I just felt drained. I couldn't imagine what Harry felt like, and that was part of the reason I held back. One less person invading his personal space when he probably only wanted to be alone.

"Bella—" he started.

"Draco—" I countered.

He gave a brief nod and left me in search of his mother, pressing a soft, sweet kiss against my cheek.

I looked back at Harry. He was playing his part wonderfully: the hero, there to shake hands, witness tears, hear testimonials about all of those no longer under the Imperius curse, all the Death Eaters captured, the innocent freed from Azkaban, and now Kingsley was named temporary Minister of Magic...

For an instant, as a strange witch with frizzy hair came to embrace an obviously exhausted Harry Potter, he looked up to see me leaning against the wall. He sent me a warm smile I knew I didn't quite deserve, and I sent a sad smile back. Our eyes betrayed to each other the exhaustion and relief, the grief and the joy, and the appreciation that someone else understood, at least a little, what hell we'd been through.

They moved my father's body and laid it in a chamber off the Hall, away from the bodies of Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey, and the fifty others who had died fighting him. McGonagall replaced the House tables, but nobody was sitting according to House anymore.

_ As it should be_, I thought to myself.

I went and walked along the line of bodies, paying my respects to those I'd known, those I'd been friends with, those I'd loved. I prayed for them, and shed silent tears. I noticed Harry talking quietly with Luna, who sat beside him on a bench, as I exited the hall to that adjacent chamber.

I didn't really understand why I felt I needed to come here, but something had compelled me to do so. I paced back and forth in front of the door, wondering if entering would be the right thing. Would it make me feel better or worse? Was it right and respectful or just foolish—like reopening a scab just to prove I was strong enough? What would Snape say? What would my mother think? I was about to back out of my plan when three figures approached, making me jump. I looked up as they stopped before me. I looked down at my feet, not knowing what to say and not feeling as if I was a part of the group. I hadn't been on the search for Horcruxes and I hadn't battled the Death Eaters. I'd just sat on the sidelines and watched.

Before I knew it, I was enveloped in a hug. Harry had crushed me against him in a fierce hug. Hermione and Ron joined us, and I was soon in the middle of a large group hug. I laughed and cried at the same time.

"It's so good to be together again," Hermione whispered.

The boys just murmured words of agreement. We stayed like that for a moment, reveling in being together, at Hogwarts, and finally safe again. When everyone pulled back I looked up, my face streaked with tears.

"I'm so sorry!" I said.

"For what?" Harry asked, a look of complete confusion on his face.

"I wish I had done something to help you, but I just watched my father kill you!" I sobbed.

Harry drew me into another hug.

"You had to play your part, Bella, and you did so perfectly! Not to mention the swing you took at that snake! You should have been a Beater, not a Chaser!"

I laughed, choking on my tears.

"And we are all safe and sound," Hermione pointed out.

"Not Fred or Tonks or Lupin!" I bawled.

"But they didn't die in vain, and that's what's most important," Ron stated, quite maturely.

I nodded, wiping the tears from under my eyes.

Harry finally looked around my shoulder at the door behind me. I was afraid to catch his glance when it returned to my face.

"I understand," was all he said.

Hermione and Ron, a few paces behind Harry, looked at me confused.

"Really?" I'd worried most about how he would feel about it.

"Yeah."

"Thank you!" I gushed.

"We'll wait right here, if you need us," Harry finished.

I nodded silently once more, sending him a grateful smile. I turned, placing my hand on the ornate doorknob and took one final deep breath before twisting the handle.

Inside lay the body of my father. For how powerful he was, for his talent at commanding a room, for the incredible magic he was capable of performing, he looked small and insignificant laying motionless on the floor.

"_Lumos_," I whispered, and the torches on the wall lit, adding a dim light onto the room. It wasn't comforting, but it made it less creepy to be alone in a room with a dead body.

I cleared my throat. I didn't know what I was going to say when I came here, but I knew I had to say something. He was my father after all, and I was his only living relative.

"Daddy?" I whispered into the dense quiet of the room.

I took one more deep breath.

"Daddy, I had to do it. I know you will never understand. I had to kill Nagini. I had to help Harry. I had to stand up for what I believed in, even if it meant standing up to you and fighting against you. I'm sorry I had to lie to you, but _only_ because I wish I'd been able to change your mind about it all. I'm definitely not sorry for how it ended up, though. I wish you had learned to love. I wish someone had shown you love as a child. I wish you could have loved my mother."

I paused.

"I wish you could have loved me."

I let out a short sob.

"I hated you for everything you did," I said angrily. "To me, to my friends, to my family, to those I love.

"And especially to Harry. He's my best friend. And I treasure a world of freedom, equality and light. And, today, we leapt the chasm in that direction. And even though you despise me for what I did, you can be proud of me for being a little like you: stubborn in my convictions to the very end.

"But I do have something to thank you for. Thank you for giving me life. And thank you for teaching me strength and determination, even if you did it in the most cruel and despicable way. And thank you for forcing Draco into my life. I love him.

"Goodbye, Father.

"And good riddance Lord Voldemort."

I turned on my heel one hundred and eighty degrees and left the room without another thought.

My friends were standing silently outside, waiting for me. Harry looked at me, a direct question waiting in his eyes. I smiled and nodded.

We left the area and headed up marble staircase. Chunks of it were missing, and part of the balustrade was gone. Rubble and bloodstains littered the area every few steps as the four of us climbed.

Somewhere in the distance we could hear Peeves zooming through the corridors singing a victory song of his own composition:

_We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter's the one,_

_ And Voldy's gone moldy, so now let's have fun!_

"Really gives a feeling for the scope and tragedy of the thing, doesn't it?" said Ron, pushing open a door to let us through.

We kept walking as the three figures walking with me took time to fill me in on their adventures over the past two years: Fleur's wedding, searching for the Horcruxes, the battles, the camping, Godric's Hollow, even the escape from Gringott's. I was amazed at how successfully they had remained under the radar, much of which the boys attributed to Hermione's brilliance. (_And rightly so_, I thought to myself.) Then, Harry took a deep breath and explained everything that had occurred since he'd left Hermione and Ron: the memories Snape had given him—some of which included information about my own mother!—what had happened in the forest, and we had not even begun to express our shock and amazement when at last we arrived at the place to which we had been walking, though none of us had mentioned our destination.

Since I'd last seen it, the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's study had been knocked aside; it stood lopsided, looking a little punch-drunk, and I wondered whether it would be able to distinguish passwords anymore.

"Can we go up?" Harry asked the gargoyle.

"Feel free," groaned the poor statue.

We clambered over him and onto the spiral stone staircase that moved slowly upward like an escalator. Harry pushed open the door at the top.

There was an earsplitting noise just after Harry entered. For a moment I thought of curses and returning Death Eaters and the rebirth of Voldemort—

But it was applause. All around the walls, the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were giving Harry Potter a standing ovation; they waved their hats and in some cases their wigs, they reached through their frames to grip each other's hands; they danced up and down on the chairs in which they had been painted; Dilys Derwent sobbed unashamedly; Dexter Fortescue was waving his ear-trumpet; and Phineas Nigellus called, in his high, reedy voice, "And let it be noted that Slytherin House played its part! Let our contribution not be forgotten!"

All of our eyes looked up to the man who stood in the largest portrait directly behind the headmaster's chair. Tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him pointed directly at Harry filled the room.

At last, Harry held up his hands, and the portraits fell respectfully silent, beaming and mopping their eyes and waiting eagerly for him to speak. He directed his words at Dumbledore:

"The thing that was hidden in the Snitch," he began, referring to the Resurrection Stone, "I dropped it in the forest. I don't know exactly where, but I'm not going to go looking for it gain. Do you agree?"

"My dear boy, I do," said Dumbledore, while his fellow pictures looked confused and curious. "A wise and courageous decision, but no less than I would have expected of you. Does anyone else know where it fell?"

"No one," said Harry, and Dumbledore nodded his satisfaction.

"I'm going to keep Ignotus's present, though," said Harry, and Dumbledore beamed.

"But of course, Harry, it is yours forever, until you pass it on!"

"And then there's this."

Harry held up the Elder Wand. I looked at it with a little bit of disgust.

"I don't want it," said Harry.

"What?" said Ron loudly. "Are you mental?"

"I wouldn't either, Harry," I backed him up.

"I know it's powerful," said Harry wearily. "But I was happier with mine. So..."

He rummaged in the pouch hanging from his neck and pulled out the two halves of holly still just connected by the finest thread of phoenix feather.

He laid the broken wand upon the headmaster's desk, touched it with the very tip of the Elder wand, and said, "_Reparo_."

As the wand resealed, red sparks flew out of its end. He picked up the holly and phoenix wand, and a satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"I'm putting the Elder Wand," he told Dumbledore, who was watching him with enormous affection and admiration, "back where it came from. It can stay there. If I die a natural death like Ignotus, its power will be broken, won't it? The previous master will never have been defeated. That'll be the end of it."

Dumbledore nodded. They smiled at each other.

"Are you sure?" asked Ron. There was the faintest trace of longing in his voice as he looked at the Deathstick.

"I think Harry's right," said Hermione quietly, looking at me as I nodded in agreement.

"The wand is more trouble than it's worth," said Harry. "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."

We all nodded in agreement.

"But there is one more thing before I pass out in Gryffindor Tower," he stated.

He turned to Hermione and Ron.

"Can I talk to Bella alone?" he asked them.

They both looked taken aback for a moment. And I began to get really nervous. What could he possibly say that he couldn't say in front of Hermione and Ron? Unless it was really really _really_ bad...

Hermione and Ron scuffled out of the room, and Harry turned back to Dumbledore.

"Can we use it one more time," he said, nodding his head over to a cabinet.

"Of course, my boy," the headmaster said. He looked at me, his eyes twinkling, and I was happy to see that the headmaster wasn't judging me.

Harry turned back to me.

"The diadem of Ravenclaw was in the Room of Requirement," he stated. "And so was Draco Malfoy."

He looked at me pointedly.

"And," I said, looking away, "you obviously destroyed the diadem, or else my father would still be alive. So...good job!"

I looked back into those familiar green eyes. Harry was smiling a very knowing smile.

"Actually, Crabbe destroyed it," he said.

"Crabbe?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, on accident."

"Oops," I supplied sarcastically.

"That's an understatement," he commented. "But I'm more interested in your thoughts on Draco Malfoy."

"Oh," I said, becoming suddenly interested in my finger nails. "Yes, Draco."

"Bella," he said, running a hand through his hair, "he _helped_ me."

"Yes."

"You knew?"

"I had an inkling he would," I said evasively.

I looked at him, awaiting his explanation. He remained silent, looking at me with a smirk on his face.

"Well how did he go about it?" I asked, barely containing my curiosity.

"He asked if he could help—"

"—and you just let him?" I interrupted.

"Well, of course not. I didn't trust him."

I smiled, "Of course you didn't."

"Well why should I? He's never given me a reason to in the past!" he nearly shouted.

I laughed.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I know! I know he hasn't. But you obviously changed your mind, or we wouldn't be having a conversation about him. So what made you change your mind, Harry?"  
"Well he gave me this great line from _Star Wars_," his eyes gleamed.

"'Do or do not. There is no try.'"

"Yeah, but I was convinced that he just got that off the letter," Harry commented, and I felt slightly glorified in my correct prediction. "So I hexed him."

"Harry!"

"Well!"

"Boys!" I threw my hands in the air. "They'll never learn!"

Harry laughed, and I joined him.

"Well, after that, he asked me to do the most peculiar thing," Harry said cheekily, "he wanted me to insult him! He began muttering something about how I had to insult him, lines from the same movie the other quote came from. He mentioned that you had sent him and whatnot. Complete nonsense, if you ask me."

"Harry, you knew I'd sent him, didn't you?"

"Well, he professed his love for you and then the Yoda quote, and well, I had a good idea about it."

He paused.

"So I began sorting through my memory of all great _Star Wars_ insults," he sent me a sideways glance.

"You didn't!"

He ignored me.

"And I told him there was: 'Don't you call me a mindless philosopher, you overweight glob of grease!' and 'I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board.'"

"You did!" I wailed.

"And then there's: 'Why do I have a feeling we've picked up another pathetic life form?' and 'Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?' and 'You flea-bitten furball! Only an overgrown mop-head like you would be stupid enough to...'"

"Oh, Harry!" I laughed.

"He kept muttering something about scruffy looking, so I figured he was asking for 'Why, you stuck up, half-witted, scruffy-looking Nerf herder.' I was more than happy to insult both his intelligence and his appearance."

I shook my head at him, "But he replied correctly, as I instructed him, letting you know I'd sent him."

"Yeah," Harry said.

"And you trusted him?"

"Sort of," Harry said. "Ron didn't take it well, but Hermione and I were convinced when we saw the way he talked about you."

I looked down at my feet, blushing.

"He obviously loves you," Harry said. "I mean, genuinely loves you."

"I know," I said. "And Harry?"

I looked up at my best friend once more.

"I love him, too."

Much to my surprise, he pulled me into a hug. "I'm happy for you, Bells."

I hugged him back, reveling in the feeling of knowing he was safe, and I never had to go back to my father's house.

"Alright, enough with the sap," I said, pulling away. "What happened next? In the Room of Requirement?"

"Well, he helped us distract Crabbe and Goyle and get out of there when Crabbe set Fiendfyre on us."

"Where'd Crabbe learn how to do that?"

"The Carrows?" Harry shrugged. "Crabbe did destroy the diadem for us, but unfortunately he destroyed himself in the process."

I nodded sadly, looking down at my feet.

"But, Bells," Harry continued. "We couldn't have done it without Draco trying to convince Crabbe and Goyle _not _to kill us. He kept me alive long enough for me to _find _the diadem. And I had the pleasure of disarming him, so I could become the master of the Elder Wand, since I didn't have the opportunity during either time I came to visit you at Malfoy Manor."

"So _that's_ what he was grumbling about," I realized, thinking back to our exchange while Voldemort and Harry had been circling each other in the Great Hall.

Harry looked at me strangely.

"Nevermind," I said, shaking my head.

"Anyway," Harry continued on, "I have something else for you."

From his pouch, Harry pulled out a clear vial filled with familiar swirling silver strands. Wrapped around it was a piece of paper with my name on it. He reached out the vial to me, but I was afraid to take it.

"Snape gave me this after he removed the memories about my mother," he explained, pushing the vial into my hands.

I slowly pulled the piece of paper off from around the vial. Written on the opposite side was a short note:

_ I want you to know what an extraordinary woman your mother was. Don't forget my will. And don't forget who you are._

While I'd read the note over and over at least ten times, Harry had pulled open the cabinet to reveal Dumbledore's Pensieve. I stepped slowly forward and poured the contents into the basin.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Harry asked.

"I think I want—I think I _need_—to do this on my own," I stated.

"Okay," he nodded, squeezing my arm in reassurance."I'll be here."

I leaned my head over the bowl full of memories, and soon I was deep in Snape's memories.

_I was standing in crowd of first-years awaiting sorting in the Great Hall. I looked up to see a young Professor McGonagall with a roll of parchment in her hands, calling names._

_ I watched her call Lily Evans, who was sorted into Gryffindor. She sent a sad smile Snape's way as she sat down and pointedly ignored Sirius sitting beside her. Lupin, Pettigrew, and Potter joined them at the familiar table. I watched the four boys as they laughed and joked together._

_ "Ann Marie Roberts," I heard McGonagall call, and my attention was diverted back to the sorting process._

_ A young girl with long dirty blond hair and gleaming green eyes—the same girl I'd seen in that memory of Snape's from Occlumency lessons, only younger—strode forward with confidence._

_ "Slytherin!" the Sorting Hat called._

_ I watched her take her seat, her face beaming with excitement, but Snape was too absorbed in watching Lily at the Gryffindor table._

_ "Severus Snape!" she called._

_ Snape moved forward. He was a cowering boy who looked far too skinny and sallow to have ever lived past the age of 25; his long dark hair fell in his face in a very undignified and unattractive manner. He sat on the stool, looking warily from side to side._

_ "Slytherin!" the sorting hat called out, and the young Snape went to take a seat at the Slytherin table amidst the polite applause. Lucius Malfoy was there, a prefect badge gleaming, and even patted Snape on the back as he took a seat beside him, across from Ann Marie, who sat next to a young Narcissa Black._

_ "Hello," Ann Marie said timidly to Snape._

_ "Hi," he replied gruffly._

_ "I'm Ann Marie," she stuck out her hand to introduce herself._

_ "Severus, Severus Snape," he boy replied, pointedly not taking her hand._

The scene dissolved into another.

_It was double potions. I could tell because each and every face held that droopy-eyed, painfully miserable expression—every face but one. The Slytherins and the Gryffindors had it together, and it was obvious that Snape was the only one enjoying himself. Every once and a while he dared a glance at Lily Evans, obviously enamored. _

_ "Merlin, Snape, could you be any more obvious?" a sweet voice asked, dripping with sarcasm._

_ Snape shook the cobwebs from his head, turning back to his cauldron and my mother._

_ "Obvious about what?" Snape asked nonchalantly, trying (but failing) to act like he hadn't been staring._

_ "Oh come _on_," Ann Marie rolled her eyes. "You are in love with Lily Evans," she finished, dropping her voice so only Snape could hear._

_ "What makes you think this is any of your business?" Snape bit out._

_ "It's not," Ann Marie conceded, "but saving the reputation of Slytherin is the business of all Slytherins. And you wouldn't want to go blowing it, would you?"_

_ Snape sent her a distasteful glare._

_ Ann Marie laughed, "I'm just kidding! Merlin, you are wound tight. What is your problem?"_

_ "You are my problem," Snape said, turning back to his Valerian roots before dropping his voice and mumbling to himself, "You and Potter."_

_ "What was that?" Ann Marie asked, a knowing look on her face._

_ "Nothing," Snape bit back._

_ Ann Marie smiled, "You're jealous!"_

_ "I am not!" Snape said a little too quickly. "Besides, who would I be jealous of?"_

_ "Wow, that just proves it," Ann Marie said, stirring her potion a few times as she added some lacewing flies. "You are jealous of James Potter."_

_ "Why would I be jealous of that pig-headed, stuck-up, arrogant prat?" Snape gritted his teeth._

_ "Don't hold back, now," said Ann Marie with a chuckle._

_ Snape looked at Ann Marie as she smiled, and it seemed for the first time he actually saw her._

_ "Why do you care anyway?" he asked._

_ "I told you," she said, counting her stirs clockwise, then counterclockwise, "I'm looking out for Slytherin's integrity."_

_ "Oh, don't give me that bull."_

_ "Now _you're _the expert on people's BS-ing skills?" Ann Marie raised her eyebrows as she uncapped a vial for her finished potion._

_ "You could care less about Slytherin or Gryffindor or any house lines," Snape replied matter-of-factly._

_ "What makes you say that?" Ann Marie looked at Snape mysteriously as she finished ladling a sample into the vial and labeled it with her name._

_ "You don't usually take sides based on house, just on what the fight is about," Snape pointed out, as he finished his own potion and dug through a drawer for a clean vial._

_ Ann Marie was already cleaning her work station, and putting her ingredients away, "You're observant for someone who has no ability to be discreet when checking out a girl."_

_ "What is it you want exactly?" Snape looked at her suspiciously._

_ "What makes you think I want something?" she asked, just as suspicious._

_ "Slytherins don't make alliances unless they see how they can benefit from it."_

_ "I hate stereotypes," Ann Marie scooped up her belongings, placed her vial on the professor's desk and left the room without another glance at Snape._

The potions room disappeared and was recreated into the Slytherin Common Room.

_Ann Marie, much older, was sitting alone, by the fire, reading a book. I smiled at the familiar scene—one that I had found myself in many a time, only in the Gryffindor Common Room. It was long past midnight, if the clock over the mantel was correct, and the emptiness of the common area seemed to back up that assumption. Snape entered looking weary, exhausted, and upset. _

_ Ann Marie didn't bother to look up from her book as he took a seat across from her, plopping down in a very teenage-boy-like fashion._

_ "How'd it go?"_

_ "Not well."_

_ "Well, what did you expect?" she still hadn't put down her book._

_ "I don't know..."_

_ "You called her a Mudblood, you idiot!" Ann Marie said exasperatedly, finally putting her book down but keeping her voice quiet enough not to disturb anyone. "What were you thinking?"_

_ "I wasn't."_

_ "Obviously!"_

_ Silence. Ann Marie looked at Snape, and her features softened._

_ "I'm sorry, Sev. I just—" she sighed. "I just couldn't believe you would do that! You are so much better than that."_

_ "I know, and now I've really screwed it up with Lily."_

_ "Yeah. She liked you a whole lot better than Potter, but now you've basically handed him her heart on a silver platter."_

_ "Don't remind me," Snape said, groaning and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms._

_ "Sorry," Ann Marie whispered, realizing she wasn't helping the situation._

_ They sat in silence for a while. Snape was obviously beating himself up, and Ann Marie, if she truly was my mother, was probably trying to figure out how to console him without condoning his behavior._

_ "I heard you went to talk to her," Snape finally broke the silence._

_ "Yeah, well, Moaning Myrtle and I are great pals, so she had no problem letting me into her sacred bathroom to find Lily."_

_ "She went to _Moaning Myrtle's _bathroom?" asked Snape. Obviously, even during our parents' time, only the desperate went to that bathroom._

_ "Yeah," was Ann Marie's only reply. I was suddenly wondering why Snape didn't ask her about why she was 'great pals' with Moaning Myrtle herself._

_ "How could I be so stupid?" exclaimed Snape, still absorbed in his own misery._

_ "Well," said Ann Marie, placing her book on the coffee table between them. "First, you're male. Next, you're a teenage wizard who—"_

_ "—Not helping!" Snape gritted out._

_ "Sorry," she replied meekly, but Snape had cracked a smile, meaning she'd succeeded in her attempt to cheer him up at least a little. "Look, Severus, you two were close friends, and you hurt her badly. But you apologized, and as long as you continue to act better and be kind to her, she'll forgive you."_

_ "Are you sure?"_

_ "No," Ann Marie replied bluntly, and Snape sagged slightly in his seat, "but all you can do is try. And that's the right thing to do in this situation. The problem is, you never know with women. They are just too temperamental and unpredictable. I mean, you've never walked into the restroom on Narcissa Black when she's having a breakdown! Women are mental."_

_ "You're a woman," Snape pointed out, grinning at the irony._

_ "Exactly!" said Ann Marie. _

_ There was a pause as Severus began to chuckle. _

_ "Wait—wait just a second," Ann Marie said._

_ "Thanks for cheering me up, Ann Marie," Severus said, standing and heading to the dormitory._

_ Ann Marie just smiled, returning to her book in a smug manner, "Sure thing, Sev, sure thing."_

The scene dissolved once more, and I came to stand in a parlor room—the one from that mansion that Snape had visited my mother at in the memory I'd seen during Occlumency lessons.

_Ann Marie was pacing back and forth, wringing her hands in a nervous manner. The door opened and she turned to see who it was: Snape. She flung herself into his arms, and he looked a little taken aback by her reaction to his arrival._

_ "Thank you so much for coming!" she said breathlessly._

_ "What's wrong, Ann Marie? Your note said it was urgent."_

_ She turned away from him, as if trying to decide whether or not to tell him what was really going on. _

_ "Ann Marie?"_

_ She turned back, took a deep breath and spoke matter-of-factly, acting more confident than she was._

_ "Severus, I'm pregnant."_

_ There was a pause, as if all the air had been sucked from the room._

_ "What?"_

_ "I'm pregnant."_

_ "With—with..." he trailed off, afraid to say it._

_ She just nodded._

_ Snape sank into a seat nearby. _

_ "Well—well—what a surprise!" he said, trying to paste a fake smile on his face. "Congratulations!"_

_ "Severus, you don't have to pretend to be happy about it," Ann Marie said, sitting in a seat perpendicular to his. "Your master isn't here right now and this conversation will, if you agree, never leave this room."_

_ Snape nodded in agreement, returning to a more serious expression. He looked at her with sad eyes. _

_ "He didn't—didn't..." Snape broke off, looking at my mother pointedly, searching for a way to say what he wanted to say. "Did he—Ann Marie, did he—?"_

_ "Severus—" she started, her tone of voice in warning._

_ "No, Ann Marie, he...oh Merlin, he—"_

_ "—Severus," she sighed heavily. "I asked him not to, but he was insistent. I couldn't blow my cover, and I didn't exactly fight back."_

_ "That doesn't matter. The law states—"_

_ "—I know what the law states, Severus, but that is besides the point!" she bit out angrily. _

_ He looked at her aghast. _

_ "Look, Sev, I really appreciate what you are trying to do, but I just really need a friend who will support me right now, because I'm going to have this baby!"_

_ "Of course, I'm sorry," Snape said, standing to take a seat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. They stayed like that, in complete silence, for a few moments while Ann Marie composed herself._

_ "Have you told him yet?" Snape broke the silence._

_ "No, that's part of the reason I wanted to talk to you..." she broke off._

_ Snape looked to her, raising his eyebrows._

_ "I have a huge favor to ask you," Ann Marie said._

_ "Anything."_

_ "What I'm going to ask is too much, Severus." she said. "It will endanger your life as well as mine."_

_ "Ann Marie," Snape began, "we have been close friends for a very long time. You have stood by my side through everything and shown me extraordinary patience, especially when it has come to Lily. I will do anything I can for you."_

_ "I can't stay here. I can't endanger the life of this baby, Severus. I mean, he always promised me he wouldn't harm a child should we have one, but I don't really believe it. And we both know perfectly well that Tom will just turn the baby into another object of this damn war, another avenue toward immortality. I've seen the magic he's performing. It's disgusting! He wants me to—" she broke off as if she were in pain, and Snape took a step toward her, worry in his face._

_ "—I'm okay," she waved him away. "He just has a spell on me, so I can't discuss details of his—his...plan."_

_ "So much for trusting one's spouse," Snape said irritably._

_ Ann Marie smiled up at him._

_ "He wants me to perform the same magic. I made up some excuse last week to get out of it, but if he makes me do it while I'm pregnant,, I might lose the baby. And I can't—" _

_ She broke off painfully._

_ "What do you need me to do?" Snape asked._

_ "I need to get away from Tom. I need you to hide me. I have a call into the Order to remove me, but they haven't gotten back to me."_

_ Snape snorted, "The Order is only interested in the war, not the people it uses."_

_ "And Voldemort doesn't use you Death Eaters?" Ann Marie dared to use the Dark Lord's name at last._

_ Snape looked hurt._

_ "I'm sorry—"_

_ "—No, you're right," Snape said quietly._

_ "You act all high-and-mighty, I-hate-the-Order but you never tattle on me to your master, and you never call me a traitor. What's with that?" Ann Marie asked, her tone light and non-accusatory._

_ "I'm not a rat. And you are my friend."_

_ "Still..." Ann Marie said smirking obviously._

_ "What's that expression on your face?"_

_ "Oh come _on_, Sev, don't act like your heart is really in to being a Death Eater. Your heart has always been with Lily, and she's with the Order."_

_ "And she's married to Potter, now. So it doesn't matter anymore"_

_ "That hasn't stopped you from thinking about her."_

_ "Don't remind me," Snape groaned._

_ Ann Marie stood from where she had been sitting, and walked to the window, crossing her arms in front of her._

_ "Ann Marie," Snape began again, "What can I do?"_

_ "Is there any way you can help hide me? Without your master finding out you are helping me?"_

_ "We can perform a Fidelius Charm on my place on Spinner's End. There's a back room that no one need enter if they come to visit me. You'll be safe there."_

_ Snape said this without even pausing to think, as if he'd been expecting it. Ann Marie looked at him, astonished._

_ "You seem to have thought this through already," said Ann Marie._

_ "I think quickly on my feet," he supplied._

_ "Liar," Ann Marie said. "You were prepped for Lily."_

_ "Lily or you. I knew as soon as you came to work as a double agent it would only be a matter of time before you needed to get out, and the Order wouldn't be fast enough."_

_ "Severus, are you sure? This is—huge. "_

_ "I'm sure."_

_ Ann Marie smiled and embraced him fiercely._

The next scene was in a private, secluded room at St. Mungo's.

_"Breathe, Ann Marie, breathe" said a Healer calmly to my mother._

_ My mother took a few deep breaths. Snape stood by her side, gripping her hand tightly._

_ "Okay, one last push!" the Healer said excitedly._

_ With sweat and tears dripping down her face, my mother took one last breath and pushed. The screams of a baby could be heard, and the nurses took the child from the Healer. _

_ "You did it!" Snape said, still holding my mother's hand._

_ "Thank you for being here for me," Ann Marie collapsed back on the pillows._

_ "I wouldn't miss it for the world," Snape said._

_ The nurse returned and handed my mother a small bundle in a pink blanket. _

_ "She's beautiful!" Snape said, gushing a little more than I thought possible. _

_ "Have you picked a name?" asked the nurse._

_ "Arabella Rose," my mother whispered. _

_ The nurse nodded and wrote the name down, allowing the Healer to sign._

_ My mother was given instructions and told to rest. The nurses bustled around the room for a little longer, as my mother turned to Snape._

_ "You'll be her godfather, won't you?" she asked._

_ "I'd be honored," Snape said, a little surprised._

Much to my dismay the scene dissolved. I found myself next in a room decorated in bright yellows and periwinkle blues: a nursery.

_ In a white wooden crib was a baby, sleeping. And Ann Marie rocked back and forth in a rocking chair, a blanket draped over her as she rested her eyes. Snape had just entered quietly, closing the door behind him as softly as possible. He stepped over to the rocking chair, placing a soft hand on Ann Marie's shoulder to let her know he was there. She nearly jumped out of her seat, startled. _

_ "Merlin, Sev, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"_

_ "Sorry, Ann Marie," he turned away and walked over to the crib. He leaned over the railing of the crib to look at the baby, obviously a newborn. She was sleeping soundly, wrapped tightly in a blue blanket with stars and moons on it._

_ "Hello, Miss Arabella Rose," he whispered, stroking the baby's wispy new-born hair. "She's beautiful," Snape said, turning back to my mother._

_ "Isn't she?" Ann Marie came to stand next to her dark-haired friend. She looked exhausted._

_ "You haven't been sleeping, have you?"_

_ "Newborns don't sleep on a regular schedule, Severus," Ann Marie supplied. _

_ "I'm sorry we can't get you more help."_

_ Ann Marie just patted his hand, "I appreciate all you have done for me. You are taking a big risk hiding me here."_

_ There was silence, as Snape turned back to the crib._

_ "Narcissa is pregnant, too, did you hear?"_

_ Snape nodded curtly, "She's been asking about you. She thinks I know something."_

_ "Well, you _do_ know something."_

_ Snape gave her a sideways look._

_ "I sent another owl to Lily Potter," Ann Marie said tensely. _

_ Snape looked taken aback._

_ "She and I have become close. She's been the Auror with whom I've had the most contact through the secret channels the Order set up for me. She's expecting as well—her first in July."_

_ "I heard," Snape said, but his voice was less bitter than I'd expected._

_ "Our babies will be going to school together!" Ann Marie said, ecstatic._

_ "I told her if the Order couldn't—or wouldn't—find me a new place to hide, that I would be running away."_

_ "No!" Snape's outburst was unexpected. "You can stay here as long as you need!"_

_ Ann Marie began to cry, "Severus, I can't continue to endanger your life. You are too good of a friend to me, and I won't risk your or Arabella's lives. This is where I need you to promise me that if anything happens to me, you will take care of Bella. You will take her to the Potters; Lily has agreed to act as guardian should anything go wrong with me, that way you don't have to worry about providing for her—"_

_ "—I thought the Malfoys were named guardians," interrupted Snape._

_ "Officially, yes, just as a precaution should Tom find her. But I'd prefer for her to be away from the influence of her father. Severus, please tell me you will do whatever you can to get her somewhere, anywhere, away from her father."_

_ "Of course, but—"_

_ "No buts, Severus!" she interrupted him, her voice and her expression equally fierce. "Just promise me! Promise me you will make sure she is safe, cared for, and most of all...loved."_

_ Snape looked at his best friend as if his heart had just been wrenched from his chest, "I promise."_

I looked for the last time at my mother's face, wet with tears, as she dissolved into nothing, and another scene took shape.

_ Snape stood on a windy hilltop, panting, turning on the spot, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, his other hand holding a large bundle under his cloak, waiting for something or for someone...His fear was infectious, even though I knew that I couldn't be harmed. Then, a blinding light, jagged and white flew through the air; Snape had dropped to his knees and his wand had flown out of his hand, and now both arms protected whatever was under his robes._

_ "Don't kill me!"_

_ "That was not my intention."_

_ Any sound of Dumbledore apparating had been drowned by the sound of the wind in the branches. He stood before Snape with his robes whipping around him, and his face was illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand._

_ "Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?"_

_ "No—no message—I'm here on my own account!"_

_ Snape looked a little mad, his straggling black hair flying around him._

_ "I come for Ann Marie, first. And then, I—I come with a warning—no, a request—please—"_

_ Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though the leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Snape faced each other._

_ "What of Ann Marie?"_

_ "She is dead," Severus stood slowly, unfolding his cloak slightly, to reveal a little bundle with a dark blue blanket that had yellow stars and moons._

_ "How?"_

_ "She was murdered," Snape bit out angrily, almost in tears. "By one of your own when she went out for diapers and formula. I should never have left her alone! The Dark Lord found her and returned with her hoping I could save her, but she was already dead."_

_ Dumbledore looked at Snape skeptically._

_ "I won't answer if you ask if I think he killed her or not," Snape responded to the unspoken thought of Dumbledore's._

_ "Very well," Dumbledore replied. "But why bring the child of Lord Voldemort to me?"_

_ "He does not know of the child, and Ann Marie preferred to keep it that way. She requested I take her to the Potters, but Lily won't respond to my owls or my floo calls."_

_ "You do this for Ann Marie, an Order member even though you yourself are a Death Eater?"_

_ "She has been my best friend since Hogwarts, and her last request of me was that I remove Arabella from the influence of her father. And I fear if she goes to her guardians—the Malfoys—she will just return to that influence."_

_ "And she entrusted you with this?"_

_ "Yes. Please, please take the child and ensure she is safe. For Ann Marie."_

_ Dumbledore took the bundle from Snape, cradling...me...in his arms._

_ "You mentioned you had a request," he reminded Snape._

_ Snape nodded._

_ "What request could a Death Eater make of me?"_

_ "The—the prophecy...the prediction...Trelawney..." _

_ "Ah, yes," said Dumbledore. "How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?"_

_ "Everything—everything I heard!" said Snape. "That is why—it is for that reason—he thinks it means Lily Evans!"_

_ "The prophecy did not refer to a woman," said Dumbledore. "It spoke of a boy born at the end of July—"_

_ "You know what I mean! He thinks it means her son, he is going to hunt her down—kill them all—" _

_ "If she mans so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?"_

_ "I have—I have asked him—"_

_ "You disgust me," said Dumbledore, and never had I heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?"_

_ Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore. _

_ "Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her—them—safe. Please."_

_ "And what will you give me in return, Severus?"_

_ "In—in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and I expected him to protest, but after a long moment, he said, "Anything."_

The scene dissolved into Dumbledore's office:

_"I thought...you were going...to keep her...safe..." _

_ Snape was slumped into a chair, looking grim, as Dumbledore stood over him._

_ "She and James put their faith in the wrong person," said Dumbledore. "Rather like you, Severus. Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?"_

_ Snape's breathing was shallow._

_ "Her boy survives. As does Arabella, for obvious reasons."_

_ With a tiny jerk of the head, Snape seemed to flick off an irksome fly._

_ "Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?"_

_ "DON'T!" bellowed Snape. "Gone...dead..."_

_ "Is this remorse, Severus?"_

_ "I wish...I wish _I_ were dead..."_

_ "And what use would that be to anyone?" said Dumbledore coldly. "If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear."_

_ Snape seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore's words appeared to take a long time to reach him._

_ "What—what do you mean?"_

_ "You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son. Help protect your goddaughter."_

_ "They do not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone—"_

_ "The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter and Arabella Riddle will be in terrible danger when he does."_

_ There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last he said, "Very well. Very well. But never—never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear...especially Potter's son...I want your word!"_

_ "My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?" Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Snape's ferocious, anguished face. "If you insist..."_

_ "Where are the children?"_

_ "Harry has gone to live with Lily's sister."_

_ "Petunia? But why?"_

_ "He will be removed from the Magical World, grow up as a normal boy. He will be out of sight-out of mind, there."_

_ "And what of Arabella?"_

_ "I have placed her under the simple name of Bella, no surname, in a local orphanage."_

_ "She shall come stay with me."_

_ "No," Dumbledore shook his head simply._

_ "But Ann Marie would have wanted it that way! She made me promise Arabella would be taken care of!"_

_ "Ah, yes, Severus," Dumbledore said, "but how will you keep up appearances with Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy when you are raising the Dark Lord's kidnapped daughter?"_

_ Snape looked down, even more miserable if that was even possible._

_ "She will return to the magical world when Harry does, before her first year as a student at Hogwarts. And by that time she will be safely unimportant when she reenters our world."_

_ "She shouldn't have to be unimportant. Her mother _helped _you! And you did nothing to save her!"_

_ "The Order did everything it could. Ann Marie stayed with you to keep obtaining information about Lord Voldemort for us, knowing she was safe with you hiding her. We could not have saved her that day she went to the store; it was too late."_

_ "That's the theme with you, isn't it? Always too late..."_

_ "You can honor Ann Marie as well, Severus. When Bella returns to school, she will no doubt need a mentor and father-figure. Her life will have been sorely lacking up until that point. You can always remain her godfather, even if she doesn't know it."_

_ Snape looked up at the figure before him as the scene began to dissolve, he nodded, though his eyes still held a strong bitterness._

I landed face down in the dusty carpet of the headmaster's office. Harry helped me to my feet. His eyes held a thousand questions, but I turned to the portrait of the old headmaster.

"He was my godfather?" I asked. "Why did no one tell me?"

"It was his secret to share," Dumbledore's portrait replied.

"Did my father kill my mother?"

"No one alive knows."

I nodded sadly.

"Thank you," I said, finally.

"Whatever for?"

"You saved me from growing up as Lord Voldemort's daughter and gave my best mentor a good kick in the pants. Thank you."

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"I think you had enough on your plate as it was," I said.

He just gave me that twinkle of the eyes as I turned to Harry.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked me.

"You probably know a fair portion from the memories Snape gave you," I commented.

"Yeah, a little."

"I wish I had known my mother," I said sadly. "I'll tell you one of these days, but I want Hermione and Ron to be there too."

Harry nodded and smiled wearily.

"But now, we seriously need showers, food and sleep."

"Agreed!"

And with one arm around each other, like the best of friends we were, we headed toward Gryffindor Tower.

_AN: I hope you enjoyed. I apologize it took me a little longer than expected. I ended up having to re-write almost all of the memories from Snape because I tried to rewrite the history I created in the first chapter without realizing it.. Luckily I caught it before I published! _

_I did some research on Arabella's name. Lots of meanings: eagle heroine, beautiful lion (I feel like Voldemort wouldn't like this one), answered prayer (I like this one best). And no, I won't answer whether or not Voldemort killed Ann Marie. That's for you to decided yourself. ;D_

_REVIEW please please please!_


	34. Chapter 34: Epilogue

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter—he, the other characters, places, beings and magic of the original canon belongs to JK Rowling. Bella Rose is mine! Some of the material for this chapter was taken directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallowsp753-759.

**XXXIV. Epilogue**

Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first of September was crisp and golden as an apple. I was sitting on the love seat swing in the garden, watching the sun rise and sipping a cup of tea in my purple mug. I was so lost in thought, I didn't hear the footsteps behind me until his hands were messaging my neck.

"Good morning, darling," I said, tipping my head back to look up into a familiar set of gray eyes.

"You're tense," he commented on my shoulders.

"Yes, well, our first born son is going off to his first year of Hogwarts today. Eleven o'clock sharp," I replied.

There was a chuckle behind me, "You aren't dreading the hour at all, are you?"

"Oh no, why would I? I mean, it isn't like I've spent eleven years making his breakfasts every morning, or doing his laundry every week—sometimes twice a week, or taking care of any bleeding scrapes, or lecturing him on the importance of keeping his shoes out of the middle of the hall or anything," I said in a sarcastically off-hand tone.

My husband moved around the swing and pressed a sweet kiss upon my cheek as he sat beside me, using his legs to swing us back and forth.

"Don't forget we have two other little rascals to keep the house plenty cluttered and noisy," he said.

"I know," I sighed. "But I'll just miss him so much!"

"We all will."

There was a pop as a little green figure dressed in a home-spun sundress appeared beside us.

"Would master and mistress like some breakfast?" the little elf squeaked.

"Oh, Trinky, you know I'll make it when the kids get up," I said to the house elf. "But thank you."

"I'd appreciate a cup of coffee," mentioned the man beside me.

"Right away, Master Malfoy," and with a pop she was gone.

Since the end of the war, there had been a lot of work done in the Ministry. Hermione had gone back to obtain her N.E.W.T.S. after which she went to work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She continued her work on S.P.E.W and pioneered new laws respecting the working and living conditions of house elves. Though they continued to work, they were paid well, clothed and given the same benefits as working witches and wizards.

Harry and Ron were accepted directly into the program for Aurors-in-training, and Draco had joined them. All together, with Hermione, they worked to revolutionize and reform the Ministry. I'd been trained as a potions master and began work for the Ministry as a tester of unidentified potions and a creator of new potions. At one point I was offered a position as Potions professor at Hogwarts, but declined so I could stay at home and care for the children.

Draco and I were married about five years after the last battle; Hermione and Ron, and Harry and Ginny had already been married. I'd nearly backed out of the wedding until my matron of honor, Hermione Weasley, reminded me that Draco and I had been together for so long and were more than ready for it:

_"You look wonderful," she had said to me, as I stood before the mirror, wringing my hands nervously._

_ "Fabulous," confirmed her red-headed sister-in-law. _

_ "Easy for you two to say," I scoffed, "You've both already been married!"_

_ The two girls laughed as I collapsed into a cushy chair nearby._

_ "How long have you two been dating?" Hermione asked me, obviously trying to make me feel better._

_ "Willingly? Or by force?"_

_ "And how long have you been living together?" Ginny countered, ignoring my comment._

_ "Because I wanted to? Or because I was being held hostage?"_

_ "Now you're just being difficult," Ginny said, her hands on her hips._

_ Hermione came to sit on the coffee table in front of me, taking one of my hands in both of hers._

_ "Bella," she said in her 'I'm-going-to-be-completely-rational-and-prove-to-you-I'm-right' voice, "You love Draco. You have been looking forward to this all year. You are ready for this, and so is he."_

_ The "all year" she was referring to had started on May 12 of the previous year. Draco and I had been eating a lunch picnic in the small park near the lake house he had inherited from his father. After eating way too much, I laid back on the blanket to look for shapes in the clouds as I'd done as a little girl. He laid back with me for a while and we talked about everything and nothing all at the same time. _

_ I'd closed my eyes to bask in the sun, thinking of napping, when Draco interrupted my thoughts._

_ "Bella?" he asked warily._

_ "Mm-hm?" I replied lazily._

_ "Take a walk with me?"_

_ I opened my eyes to look at him. I thought about that nap I really wanted, but I decided a walk wouldn't hurt after such a big lunch._

_ I stood, brushing the dirt off my bum, and took Draco's hand as he led me down to walk along the beach. We took off our shoes and socks, leaving them on the dock closest to our picnic site and walked barefoot down the beach,._

_ "I want to ask you something,"Draco said after we'd been walking a while._

_ I tossed a glance his way. He was looking down at the sand, one hand in mine the other thrust deeply into his pants pocket._

_ "What is it?" I asked._

_ "I want you to answer me honestly, okay?" he said looking up at me._

_ "Okay," I smiled, taken aback by his seriousness._

_ "Don't feel obligated to answer one way or the other."_

_ "Okay," I laughed a little, almost uncomfortable._

_ He took a knee, right there in the sand, holding both my hands in his._

_ "Bella, will you marry me?" he asked, fiddling with the ring already on my left ring finger, the one that had stayed there since my 19th birthday._

_ I laughed, but the look on his face was terrified, so I was quick with my explanation as to why._

_ "Draco, we're already engaged!" I said, "And have been for quite some time."_

_ "Yes, but the last time I asked you, you were forced to say yes. This time I want to know it is what you want; I want it to be your own decision."_

_ "Oh, Draco!" I lifted him from his kneeling position so he was standing in front of me, "Of course I'll marry you!"_

_ "Even though we fight?"_

_ "We don't fight!" I countered._

_ He gave me a look._

_ "Okay, we do occasionally. But it's nothing like we used to! We're doing much better."_

_ "We fought this morning," he said thickly._

_ "That wasn't a fight," I replied, "That was a-a-a-spirited debate!"_

_ "You called me Ferret boy," he deadpanned._

_ I looked at him apologetically._

_ "You haven't called me that in at least three years."_

_ "Well, you called me a traitor last week," I pointed out._

_ "I was teasing you!" he exclaimed. "And you know it!"_

_ A slow smile spread across my lips._

_ "I know," I said softly, "And if you'll have me, the sarcastic traitor that I am, for a lifetime, I'd love to have you, Ferret boy."_

_ A smile spread across his face as he directed my chin up to meet his mouth in a kiss._

_ "So you'll marry me?" he said cautiously and slowly._

_ I nodded, refraining from rolling my eyes just barely._

_ "Next week?" he asked excitedly._

_ "How about next year?" I giggled in response. _

_ His face fell quickly._

_ "So I can plan it, silly!" I explained, "You know your mother and I will need lots and lots of time."_

_ At that, he laughed knowingly, and pulled me into a kiss before he'd finished his chuckle._

Thinking about all that, sitting next to Draco on the porch swing, made me smile happily. I was finally content with life, finally finding out who I was and becoming the woman I really wanted to be—without pressure from anyone else. Draco and I had created a beautiful home and had three beautiful children: our eleven-year-old Tobias, our eight-year-old Alexander, and our five-year-old Aurora. Lucius and Narcissa were wonderful grandparents, and were gracious enough to give Draco and I the Manor after our marriage, relocating to their lake house.

Trinky returned with a cup of coffee for Draco as I stood to head to the kitchen, "I'd better go prep breakfast, because we know getting Toby up and ready in time will be the battle of the century."

"No, I think that battle's already been taken care of," Draco commented.

I looked at him for a moment before realizing what battle he was talking about.

"That was _last_ Century, dear," I reminded.

He just chuckled at me as I walked away with Trinky.

Once up, dressed, fed and fully packed, it was all I could do to keep Toby from bouncing off the walls as I got Rory ready for the day.

"Draco, can you please distract your eldest son for a few minutes, so I can finish helping Rory get dressed?" I called down the hallway as I helped Rory with the buttons on her blouse.

"But _Mo-om_," Toby whined as only an eleven-year-old can.

"Tobias Malfoy, please treat your mother with the respect she deserves," Draco appeared, leaning against the doorframe of Rory's room where Toby was tapping his foot impatiently. "Now, why don't you come downstairs with me; I have a surprise for you."

Draco's eyes twinkled, and I had a pretty good idea what the surprise he was referring to was. We'd gotten him his first owl, but saved it as a surprise for the first day. I nodded with a smile as I helped Rory into a pair of tights with little autumn leaves imprinted on them to match her orange jumper.

"Now would you like pigtails this morning? Or maybe a french braid?" I asked the little girl as I watched her carefully buckle her brown Mary Janes.

"Pigtails!" she said, looking up at me with the big green eyes she definitely inherited from her grandmother, "Curly ones!"

"Okay," I laughed, "I'll see what I can do."

As I sat her down at her vanity and began brushing her hair, I called out down the hall in a way that would have made Narcissa and Lucius cringe for lack of decorum, "Zander? Are you about ready?"

He straggled in to his sister's bedroom, his hair sticking up in odd directions, rubbing his right eye with his right fist, "Jus' 'bout."

"I don't think I believe you," I said, looking his snitch-covered pajamas up and down.

"Jus' finished breakfast," he mumbled.

"Obviously," I muttered, and then louder: "Well, you need to get a move on if you want to come to see your brother off at the station."

"M'kay," he said, shuffling out of the room.

I shook my head in dismay as I fastened another hair tie around Rory's golden hair, "Whatever will we do with those boys, Miss Aurora?" I asked the little girl in front of me.

"Send them away to school!" she said happily.

"Well, Toby yes, but Zander will have to wait a few more years," I said, "and we will miss them when they are gone, won't we?"

"No way!" she said matter-of-factly.

"You'll be surprised, I think," I said quietly, picking up my wand so I could curl her pigtails into two large ringlets.

"I'm surprised Hermione and Ron aren't already here," I commented to Draco once we'd gotten onto Platform 9 ¾. "Hermione is such a stickler for punctuality."

"You mean for being super-early," Draco corrected as he took the owl's cage off of Toby's trunk so he could load it onto the train.

"Well, yes," I smiled. "But I suppose Ron runs late, so they balance each other."

"Where _are_ they?" Toby said, tapping his foot again.

"When will you ever learn patience, my love?" I asked him, brushing his blond hair out of his face.

"Patience is a virtue, young man, and Malfoys are virtuous people," came the comment from my husband, who always seemed to be trying to bestow knowledge on his children.

I couldn't refrain from snorting. Draco sent me a glare, so I quickly tried to hide it with a cough, "You're right, of course, dear. Patience _is_ a virtue." He tried to keep glaring at me, but I could see the smile behind his eyes. Rory looked from her father to me and back again, shrugged and returned to staring at all of the other children and families loading the big red steam engine.

"I think I see red hair," Draco commented as we peered through the dense vapor. "Yep, that's definitely red hair, I see. I think they are here."

"Draco!"

"Hi Rose!" Toby broke into a run to greet his friend and my goddaughter, who was already wearing her brand-new Hogwarts robes. She reminded me so much of Hermione on her first day.

Rose beamed at him, "Hi Toby!"

Ron pushed the trolly the rest of the way to greet us. Hermione and I embraced, marveling at the insanity of sending our children off to school. Ron shook Draco's hand as they discussed something about work. It was such a relief to see them getting along, especially since it took Ron the longest to welcome Draco into our tight-knit family group. It wasn't long after Ron had loaded Rose's things next to Toby's on the train that the Potter family appeared through the mist.

"Hi," said Albus, sounding immensely relieved to see his cousins.

I embraced Harry, who had a happy expression on his face, though his eyes held a little bit of worry.

Rose beamed at her cousin, showing off her robes. Toby greeted Albus and they all began animatedly talking about Hogwarts.

"Parked all right, then?" Ron asked Harry. "I did. Hermione didn't believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, did you? She thought I'd have to Confund the examiner."

"No, I didn't," said Hermione, "I had complete faith in you."

I looked at her skeptically, but she ignored my knowing eyes.

"As a matter of fact, I _did_ Confund him," Ron whispered to Harry, but I overheard. Together, they lifted Albus's trunk and owl onto the train. "I only forgot to look in the wing mirror, and let's face it, I can use a Supersensory Charm for that."

I shook my head as I turned back to listen to the children talking. Lily, Albus's younger sister, and Hugo, Rose's younger brother, were having an animated discussion about which House they would be sorted into when they finally went to Hogwarts.

"Oh we'll be in Gryffindor for sure!" said Lily.

"Well, since all of our parents were, it would only make sense."

"Mum and Dad were in opposite houses, weren't you Mum? So who knows where I'll end up," interjected Zander from the sidelines of the conversation.

"And you needn't worry about it, the Sorting Hat will put you all exactly where you will do best," I said, stroking Zander's hair.

"If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you," said Ron, "but no pressure."

"_Ron!_"

Lily and Hugo laughed, but Albus, Rose and Toby all looked solemn.

"He doesn't mean it," said Hermione and Ginny, but Ron was no longer paying attention. Catching Harry's and Draco's eyes, he nodded covertly to a point some fifty yards away. The steam had thinned for a moment, and three people stood in sharp relief against the shifting mist.

"Look who it is."

Pansy Parkinson—only she was no longer a Parkinson, I assumed—was standing there with her husband and son, a dark coat set her sharply against the white mist. Her hair was longer than it had been in school and was pulled back in an elaborate twist. The young girl beside her resembled her almost precisely as Albus resembled Harry. She caught sight of us staring at her and nodded curtly, turning away again.

"So that's little Amaryllis," said Draco under his breath.

"She looks just like her mother," I breathed to my husband. Though I had never been jealous of Pansy, she had still pursued Draco throughout our years at Hogwarts and even after. She made me uncomfortable. Draco obviously sensed this, and took my hand. I looked into his face, which met mine with an expression of "don't-be-ridiculous" mixed with "I-love-you-more-than-anything."

"Make sure you beat her at every test, Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mother's brains," Ron's comment pulled me back to reality.

"Ron, for heaven's sake," said Hermione, half stern, half amused. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!"

"You're right, sorry," said Ron, but unable to help himself, he added. "Don't get _too_ friendly with her, though, Rosie. Auntie Bella would never forgive you if you befriended a Parkinson relative."

"_Ronald!_" I burst out.

Rose just laughed, "Auntie Bella's too nice to think that."

"Thank you, Rose. At least you inherited your mother's sensibility," I glared at Ron.

"Hm-mm," Draco cleared his throat to ease the tension, but he was interrupted:

"Hey!"

James had finally appeared; he had divested himself of his school things, and was evidently bursting with news.

"Teddy's back there," he said breathlessly, pointing back over his shoulder into the billowing clouds of steam. "Just seen him! And guess what he's doing? _Snogging Victoire!_"

He gazed up at us adults, evidently disappointed in our lack of reaction.

"_Our_ Teddy! _Teddy Lupin!_ Snogging _our_ Victoire. _Our _cousin! And I asked Teddy what he was doing—"

"You interrupted them?" said Ginny. "You are _so_ like Ron—"

"—and he said he'd come to see her off! And then he told me to go away. He's _snogging_ her!" James added as though worried he had not made himself clear.

"Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!" whispered Lily ecstatically. "Teddy would _really_ be part of the family then!"

"He already comes round for dinner about four times a week," said Harry. "Why don't we just invite him to live with us and have done with it?"

"Yeah!" said James enthusiastically. "I don't mind sharing with Al—Teddy could have my room!"

"No," said Harry firmly, "you and Al will share a room only when I want the house demolished."

He checked the battered old watch that had once been Fabian Prewett's.

"It's nearly eleven, you'd better get on board."

"Don't forget to give Neville our love!" Ginny told James as she hugged him.

"Mum! I can't give a professor love!"

"But you know Neville—"

James rolled his eyes.

"Outside, yeah, but at schools he's Professor Longbottom, isn't he? I can't walk into Herbology and give him love..."

Shaking his head at his mother's foolishness, he vented his feelings by aiming a kick at Albus.

"See you later, Al. Watch out for the thestrals."

"I thought they were invisible? You said they were invisible!"

But James merely laughed, permitted his mother to kiss him, gave his father a fleeting hug, then leapt onto the rapidly filling train. He waved, then sprinted away up the corridor to find his friends.

"Thestrals are nothing to worry about," Harry reassured the three first years, especially Albus. "They're gentle things, there's nothing scary about them. Anyway, you won't be going up to school in the carriages, you'll be going in boats."

Ginny kissed Albus good-bye. Harry hugged him.

I turned to my own son. "You be good, Tobias," I said, my voice wavering. "Learn a lot, be kind, have fun, remember your manners..."

Toby began to roll his eyes and Draco patted my shoulder to calm me down.

"Make us proud," Draco said in a stern manner that reminded me a little too much of his own father.

I pushed Zander and Rory forward to say goodbye to their older brother. Rory began to cry. Much to my surprise, her eldest brother knelt in front of her to give her a hug. "I'll write to you as often as I can, Rory, and tell you all you have to look forward to. Christmas will be here before you know it!"

When he released her, Rory ran straight into my arms. I picked her up as she buried her face in my shoulder.

"I'm already proud of you," I whispered to Toby as I kissed the top of his head.

He looked into my eyes as I teared up. He had always been acutely aware of my emotional reactions, and I knew he was feeling just a little guilty that he was leaving me because it made me sad.

"Go on," I pushed him towards the train with my free arm. "See you at Christmas."

I turned back to stand by Draco, who had his arm around Zander. I saw that Harry was crouched down, reassuring Albus of something. Ginny could obviously hear, but was being ever tactful, pretending to be waving to Rose and Toby, now settled on the train, but hanging out the window.

"Are we having dinner Friday night?" I asked Hermione, referring to the tradition we'd kept since the end of the war. As the Golden Quartet, one of us had made dinner for the other three every Friday night. Ginny joined after she and Harry married, and slowly Draco was incorporated as the others became more and more comfortable with him being around. Not surprisingly, Ron was the last to accept him, only doing so when he realized Draco was the Wizard's Chess adversary he'd always waited for. This was exceptionally convenient for the rest of us, because we'd much rather play Exploding Snap or a Muggle board game than be subjected to hours of Wizard's Chess with either of those men.

"Of course," Hermione responded, blowing a kiss to Rose.

"I think we should meet at our place this week," I commented, "I have a strange feeling the house is going to be too quiet."

"I think we all have that feeling," Ron commented.

The doors were slamming all along the scarlet train, and the blurred outlines of parents were swarming forward for final kisses, last-minute reminders. Albus turned from his father, his face beaming, and I knew Harry had found the exact right thing to say to his son, who seemed so worried about his first year at school and living up to his brother's and parents' achievements. Albus jumped into the carriage and Ginny closed the door behind him. Students were hanging from the windows nearest them. A great number of faces, both on the train and off, seemed to be turned toward Harry.

"Why are they all staring?" demanded Albus as he, Toby and Rose craned around to look at the other students.

"Don't let it worry you," said Ron. "It's me. I'm extremely famous."

Albus, Toby, Rose, Hugo, and Lily laughed. Hermione, Ginny and I just rolled our eyes. The train began to move, and I walked alongside it, watching my son's thin face, already ablaze with excitement. I kept waving, though my smile faded; it was like a little bereavement, watching my son glide away from me...

The last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air. The train rounded a corner. My hand dropped to my side, and a warmer hand took it.

"He'll be all right," Draco murmured to me.

I looked at him.

"I know," I said, turning to kiss my husband. Over his shoulder, I saw Harry touch the lightning scar on his forehead, absentmindedly. I caught his gaze over his own wife's shoulder.

"I know he will," I heard Harry murmur to Ginny, knowing she had just reassured her husband of the same thing Draco had just reassured me. And from the glint in Harry's eyes, I knew that that scar had not pained him for eighteen years. All was well.

_AN: So, in this version, Rose was named after Arabella's middle name, hence why she is the godmother. Toby's name comes from Snape's father. Alexander was chosen last minute partly because it means "Defender of the people" and partly because Moody's first name (Alastor) is the Scottish form of Alexander. Aurora means "Goddess of the Dawn" and kind of came from Sleeping Beauty, since I'm pretty sure that little girl created by Draco and Bella would look like that Aurora, but also because I love that name. I hope you enjoyed!_

_Lastly:_

_THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! Thank you to all of you have read this story, even more to those who have reviewed. Without you all, I wouldn't have completed it. So yes, this is the end of the road for Bella's Story._

_ I have gotten a couple of requests for sequels. I'm not promising anything because I'm looking forward to working on my own original works. Buuuuuuuuut, I will confess I have ideas for more flashbacks for Bella as well as stories about her kids in my head. I have also contemplated a story about Ann Marie at school. Sooooooo, depending on how many requests I get for sequels or another story entirely, I may do one (or two...). But I'm warning you, nothing will appear for at least a couple months. _

_ Thanks for sticking with Bella to the bitter end!_

_Much love,_

_CaramelWillow_


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